


Winter Tale

by Papillon87



Series: Citadel [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Character Death, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Prince Dongmin, Royalty, Secret Relationship, Self Harm - sort of, Sexual Content, Snow snow and more snow, Violence, Why does this look worse than it is again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 19:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 43,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22002967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Papillon87/pseuds/Papillon87
Summary: ‘I said the hare was mine!’The hilt of the boy’s sword told Bin it was an expensive weapon, worth probably more than his parents’ house. The steel blade was immaculate, the tip sharp; he could feel it nicking his skin, the sharp prick stinging right under his Adam’s apple.Bin swallowed down the angry tears. He would not cry in front of a stranger, in front a boy clad in an expensive cloak, who probably never went hungry for a single day in his life.Despite the tip of the boy's sword pressing against his throat, he wasn’t to be defeated. ‘Give it back! I shot it; it's mine!’The boy’s dark eyes narrowed. ‘So you are claiming it as yours?’Bin stilled. The woods belonged to the king, and with it all the game, every feather and beak, all trees and every blade of grass. He had no right to be here, let alone hunt.
Relationships: Lee Dongmin | Cha Eunwoo/Moon Bin
Series: Citadel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100150
Comments: 134
Kudos: 243





	1. Chapter 1

**Year 56 of the House of Lee. The Month of Frozen Earth.**

‘Bin, please.’

‘It will be fine, Mother. I am going to be fine.’

He carefully hung the lantern on a hook and knelt down. The golden light flickered in the grey morning dawn and cast long shadows over the empty barn. There had been times when the space was filled with sacks of barley and oats, rows and rows of them, their bellies bulging, straining the hemp to bursting.

Those times were long gone.

The straw covering the floor whispered under his hands, specks of dust smelling faintly of summer filling the air, as he carefully pushed it aside.

‘Bin, it’s too dangerous. If you’re caught, you will lose your hand. Or your life.’

‘Mother,’ he grunted as he lifted a roughly hewn trap door, ‘starving will kill us either way; I’d rather die trying.’

He reached into the shallow space under the floorboards and pulled out a big, flat package wrapped in a rough cloth.

‘It’s all my fault.’

His mother’s voice was faltering and Bin hated how tired and powerless she sounded.

‘It’s not your fault,’ he interrupted her briskly, eyeing his late father’s crossbow, beautifully oiled and cleaned, a quiver full of arrows next to it – exactly the way he had left it, wrapped in several layers of cloth and hidden, eighteen moons ago when his father succumbed to fever.

‘It’s not your fault that the harvests have been only half of what they used to be, what with floods and blight and…’

He fingered the fine, beautifully polished wood and blinked the tears away.

‘But it’s my fault that we spent all our savings on all those new-world doctors,’ his mother wiped at her eyes with her apron. ‘I should have left it to God’s will. If your father was meant to die, I shouldn’t have tried to change that. God is punishing us for that. Now we have no money left and your father is dead anyway.’

Bin’s fingers gripped the quiver so hard his knuckles went white. ‘You loved Father; you did the right thing. It’s foolish to do nothing and just pray; that never helps. God doesn’t care about us.’

‘Bin!’ his mother hissed and swatted at his head. ‘Don’t say such awful things!’

‘But it’s true, Mother,’ Bin closed the trap door and spread the straw over it in an even fashion. ‘Prayers don’t help; we need to help ourselves.’

He stood up and slung the crossbow over his shoulder. He surveyed the floor, kicking the odd heap of straw in place so it would fully cover the secret hidden underneath.

He pulled his mother into a swift hug and kissed her head. Despite all his bravado, he was scared. ‘Don’t worry about me; I shall be home before dark. And I will bring something to eat.’

‘Be careful, my boy,’ his mother’s hand was shaking as she patted his cheek gently.

…………………….

The pristine snow crunched under Bin’s feet as he headed for the woods behind their cottage. His parents’ dwelling was set away from the rest of the village because, twenty-five years previously, his father, a young and handsome farmer, had cast his eye over the most beautiful girl in the valley and decided to build a big house to impress his future in-laws. He had chosen a spot in the middle of a big clearing above the village, overlooking the river winding its way through the valley below. The view was beautiful and the house a good couple of feet higher and wider than other cottages in the valley. His future father-in-law was suitably impressed and the following autumn, after a good harvest, Bin’s father brought a young bride into his brand new home, the wooden beams still smelling of fresh resin and the sand on the floors still pristine and white.

Bin knew all of this because his mother used to tell him about their wedding as if it was a fairy tale; it used to be his favourite bedtime story, the wonder of that long gone day still shining from his mother’s every word.

Nothing of that crossed Bin’s mind that morning; he simply thanked his lucky stars that he only had to slide through the back gate under the cover of dawn and slip into the woods looming dark and silent behind their house.

He didn’t linger. The clearing was too open and visible, even on a grey December morning, with all hardworking men only just stirring in their beds and women sweeping the hearths and gathering kindling in their dark kitchens to make fire and brew the first cup of tea.

Once he made it under the dense canopy of spruces and firs, he relaxed. The cover made him breathe more freely and he tightened the furs around him a little, feeling like a warrior getting ready for battle. He had no cloak; it would have been too heavy to move in and today, Bin needed to be light on his feet.

The cold was not seeping into his bones just yet; his father’s old gloves and leather boots were worn but of good quality and he wore an extra pair of woollen socks to keep his toes warm. A whole day outside in winter was no laughing matter; Bin hoped he would be able to shoot at least a couple of squirrels before his fingers went numb with cold and his whole body and mind became paralysed with hunger.

Despite branches above his head laden with snow and protecting the ground below, the white carpet under his feet was deep. It was hard going; every step was an effort, the footprints an unmistakable proof of him being here, in the Crown lands, in a place where he had no right to be, let alone to hunt.

………………………

The forest was unusually quiet that day, as if the bitter cold drew all beasts, small and great, into hiding. He had spotted a couple of deer first thing in the morning, when the dawn was still tingeing everything grey, but they were too far, even for Bin’s powerful crossbow. He had followed them for a while but the trail got too close to the northern boundary where the gently rolling hillocks of the Crown woods gave way to a massive rocky outcrop on top of which the High Castle loomed, and, although heavy-hearted, Bin decided to abandon the plan. Too dangerous.

With every passing hour he felt his body growing more sluggish, his legs heavier. The flask he had tied close to his body in the morning – herb tea, not ale - was giving the last vestiges of its warmth as he pressed his almost numb fingers to it from time to time. The puffy clouds of his breath might have looked beautiful in the crisp sunlight but they only reminded Bin painfully how late it was and that the sun would start dipping lower very soon.

He felt faint. There was no good to think about food but images of his mother’s crusty bread and little oatcakes, of fish stew and of roasted duck - fat dripping into the fire – were dancing in front of his eyes, torturing him. His stomach hurt. It was the dull ache from being empty for more than one day but Bin knew this was not too bad yet. Things always got worse after two or three days, much worse. He was still fine, he wasn’t losing his strength yet – not fully, anyway. He just had to try harder.

……………………..

The sun had already hit its peak in the sky when his first real chance came.

A hare emerged from underneath a young spruce, a young one still, its fur grey and fluffy, the little cottontail quivering as it tried to leap in the deep snow.

Bin reached behind his back for an arrow, movements precise and efficient. He had practised many times with his father and became a good shot – right now however, his heart was thumping wildly and he could almost hear the rush of his own blood.

The slight ping of the string was familiar, oddly comforting; when the poor animal jerked and fell to the ground, Bin jumped up and ran towards it.

Quick, quick, quick.

In his head, he could already smell the stew, his mother throwing a handful of herbs into the steaming pot above the fire, the meat melting on his tongue, dark and tender.

‘Halt! The hare is mine!’

Bin froze.

Behind him he heard hurried footsteps crunching through the snow and he sprinted forward.

There was no need to turn and assess the situation. Whoever was following him was after the same thing.

Because in the thick snow in front of him, mere fifty feet away lay the hare, its body pierced by two quivering arrows.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a tall figure, a dark cloak fanning after him and he sped up desperately.

‘I said halt!’

Bin lurched forward - but another hand grabbed the animal by its ears and snatched it away.

His body hurtled forward, landing face first in the snow. Eyes blinded by the white coldness, he sprung up nevertheless, ready to charge at the thieving stranger, when a cold touch of steel on his neck stopped him in his tracks.

‘I said the hare was mine!’

The hilt of the boy’s sword told Bin it was an expensive weapon, worth probably more than his parents’ house. The steel blade was immaculate, the tip sharp; he could feel it nicking his skin, the sharp prick stinging right under his Adam’s apple.

The thought of another day without food twisted hot in his gut and Bin swallowed down the angry tears. He would not cry in front of a stranger, in front a boy clad in an expensive cloak who probably never went hungry for a single day in his life, a boy with a beautiful face and skin as pale and flawless as the silk of his mother’s wedding dress that Bin sometimes used to pull from his mother’s dowry chest and stroke as a little boy.

Despite the tip of the boy's sword pressing against his throat, he wasn’t to be defeated. ‘Give it back! I shot it; it's mine!’

The boy’s cheeks coloured. ‘We both shot it.’

‘Don’t fool yourself, my Lord,’ Bin snorted derisively. ‘My arrow went through the eye; yours barely hit the hind quarters.’

The boy’s dark eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. ‘So you are claiming it as yours?’

Bin stilled. It was a very thin ice he was about to tread on; he knew that. The woods belonged to the King, and with it all the game, every feather and beak, all trees and every blade of grass.

Bin had no right to anything here, anything at all. Neither had the boy, perhaps, but Bin, as a lowborn, had no place to question why was this pretty rich son of some lord strutting around in the royal grounds.

‘No, my Lord,’ he cast his eyes to the ground, swallowing the bitter bile of defeat. ‘I’m not claiming anything. Forgive me, my Lord, for my impudent words. The hare is yours.’

‘Good,’ the boy pulled back his sword a little but kept it pointed at Bin. He crouched down and, dropping the hare, he quickly picked up his bow. It was beautiful, the riser carved and polished to perfection, fitting into his hand so neatly, Bin knew it must have been custom-made by a very skilled bow-maker.

‘I’m glad you’re seeing some sense,’ the boy smirked. He was looking Bin straight in the eye, being the same height as him - and it annoyed Bin enormously.

Hot tears prickled in Bin’s eyes again and he looked down quickly. The arrogant princling – or whoever he was – had no right to make fun of him. He was probably an impostor, the same way Bin was – only armed with better weapons and adorned from birth with a better pedigree.

‘Run away, peasant,’ the boy motioned with his hand, the movement regal. ‘Be glad that I’m not dragging you with me to the castle and throwing you into a cell for hunting in my father’s woods.’

Bin’s blood froze.

‘Your… your… father?’ he stammered, heart clenching in terror.

‘Yes,’ the boy answered absentmindedly. He slid the sword into the sheath, although his eyes didn’t leave Bin for a second. ‘My father. I’m Prince Dongmin.’

Bin slid to his knees. ‘I’m so sorry, Your Highness,’ he gasped. ‘Please, I offer my humblest apologies. I…. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful… I… I…. Please forgive me!’

‘Stand up and don’t act like a fool,’ the prince frowned. ‘I liked you more when you were shouting at me.’

Bin scrambled to his feet, knees shaking. This was bad. This was really bad. This was the Crown Prince, the heir to the throne; he had every right to kill Bin for hunting in the woods, for speaking to a member of the royal family without respect – for even looking at him in the wrong way.

He bowed down as low as he could.

‘Oh, stop with that,’ the prince didn’t look angry, merely annoyed. ‘Just go.’ He fumbled with his cloak, put his hood up, already turning away. He was clearly eager to dismiss Bin and leave, impatient to return to his life of privilege and wealth.

Bin found he couldn’t move.

Despite knowing how foolish it was, his eyes were drawn to the dead hare on the ground.

‘Your Highness,’ he whispered, still bowed in half, not daring to look up. ‘You have forgotten your hare.’

The prince turned around, even if Bin could only see his soft leather boots. ‘I have no use for it. Leave it there.’

‘Your Highness,’ Bin gulped uneasily, eyes trained on the ground, body still bend low. ‘If Your Highness has no use for it… Could I take it? Please.’

‘The village folk are not allowed to poach here. Be glad I’m not killing you for that.’

His voice was flat, utterly uninterested - simply uttering the learned words, not conscious of the weight they carried – and something in Bin broke.

He failed his mother and his little sister. They will go to bed hungry tonight, again.

He sank to his knees. The sobs came out of nowhere, racking his whole body, pouring out without constraint, like a river breaking a dam. He didn’t care about the prince seeing him on his knees, tears and snot in front of the heir to the throne; he felt utterly despondent, without any hope left.

He was kneeling in front of a beautiful boy who didn’t know a thing about ever-present hunger, about poverty that seeps into one’s bones like poison, about sunken eyes of the little ones and the elderly, when their feeble bodies give up because there is nothing to sustain them. He knelt - curled up in a ball in front of someone who was a symbol of power and all that Bin hated in his life – and sobbed.

‘What is wrong with you, boy?’

Prince Dongmin didn’t leave. He turned and crouched down, lifting Bin’s chin with his gloved fingers.

His face was blurry and somehow, maybe because Bin couldn’t’ make out his immaculate features through his tears, he stopped caring.

‘I’m hungry, Your Highness,’ he blurted out, ‘I’m so hungry.’

The fingers on his chin shook a little, as if the young prince lost his footing in face of such raw frankness.

‘Was… Was the hare… Were you hunting because you wanted to eat?’

‘No, Your Highness,’ Bin sniffed, trying in vain to wipe his nose with his sleeve, the indignity of his position hitting him all of a sudden. ‘It wasn’t just for me… It was meant to be for my mother too… and for my little sister.’

‘What about your father?’

The prince let go of his chin but didn’t move, dark eyes not leaving Bin’s face.

Bin shook his head. ‘My… My father passed away the summer before last, Your Highness. We had to sell almost everything we had… to pay the doctor’s bills. Then the last two harvests were bad and… And the winter came earlier, much earlier this year and…’

He tried desperately to swallow down his tears, now that the ethereal face of the young prince was right in front of his reddened, swollen nose. Having to talk about his pitiful life was embarrassing enough – having a Royal handkerchief thrust in his face was worse.

Gingerly, he took it, a square of fine white cambric with the royal crest embroidered in the corner.

He knew it was expensive linen, foreign – it felt like those fine shirts and handkerchiefs his mother brought home from the manor when she sometimes took in washing to supplement their measly income from farming.

‘Well?’

The prince arched his eyebrows, pointing at the handkerchief. ‘Wipe your face, I’m not doing it for you.’

Bin fingered the delicate fabric. ‘It’s too pretty for that,’ he whispered shamefacedly.

‘Oh, for the sake of our Lord,’ the prince rolled his eyes and pulled another one from his sleeve. None too gently, he grabbed Bin’s chin, tilted it upwards and quickly wiped the tears and snot off Bin’s face.

‘Now you look much better.’

Bin felt himself reddening under such a close scrutiny. The prince finished drying his tears but his fingers lingered, touching the dark circles under Bin’s eyes, tracing the hollows of his cheeks, his cracked lips.

‘Please, don’t cry now.’

Bin felt tired. He has never seen anything more beautiful in his life and the young prince’s face mere inches from him, like something out of his mother’s fairy tales, his gloved hand softly cupping his cheek, was sending him to sleep.

He leaned into the touch and closed his eyes.

‘Hey! Don’t fall asleep!’

A hand slapped his other cheek, the sting jolting him awake. He opened his eyes and blinked sleepily into a pair of scared dark eyes.

‘Never fall asleep in the woods in winter; you will freeze to death! Have your parents taught you nothing? Get up!’

The warmth of Price Dongmin’s palm through the leather was inviting and he closed his eyes again. ‘Tired,’ he mumbled sleepily.

The prince shook him with his free hand. ‘Get up, you fool! Just get up! Take that bloody hare and go home!’

Bin felt weak, as if his whole body changed into wobbly mush; he felt he could simply fall asleep here, in the middle of the quiet whiteness, with only the wind howling in the trees above and the prince’s hand on his face.

Without warning, two strong arms yanked him up. ‘Come on, you need to go home. Which way?’

He opened his eyes, blinking disorientated, then his knees buckled. ‘Too far.’

The prince managed to grab him and keep him upright – but only just. Bin swooned and sank against his body.

‘Now, this is not working,’ the prince’s voice rose in panic. ‘Get off me, you need to go home!’

The crook of Dongmin’s neck felt like the softest cushion, the fur of his hood tickling Bin’s nose. The young prince smelled like leather and rosewater and those lavender sacks his mother put in between the freshly washed sheets from the manor. All of that and something more, warm skin and a hint of musk in his sweat – and beauty.

Now Bin knew that beauty had a scent.

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Dongmin prised Bin off him and held him at his arms’ length, looking into his eyes sternly. ‘Why did you go poaching when you can barely stand on your feet?’

Bin blinked, barely able to look the other in the eye. ‘Hungry, You Highness. We were hungry.’

The prince paused mid-sentence. ‘When was the last time you ate?’ he asked quietly.

Thinking was difficult. Bin found his brain felt woolly and almost empty, and it took him a moment to gather his thoughts.

‘Yesterday morning, Your Highness. I had some porridge my mother made. But I gave most of it to my little sister. She has been coughing and is not well. She needs to keep her strength up.’

The prince gaped. ‘So you had nothing to eat at all when you went traipsing through the woods this morning?’

‘No, Your Highness.’

‘Where do you live?’

‘Off Rivervale, Your Highness.’

Dongmin didn’t say anything after that. With one hand still supporting Bin, he hurriedly undid the clasp on his cloak and threw it on the ground. He lowered Bin on it, made him lean against a trunk of an old fir tree looming above them.

‘What… What are you doing, Your Highness?’ Bin whispered as Dongmin sat down next to him and reached into a leather pouch tied to his waist.

‘You need to eat. I can't lug you all the way to Rivervale if you faint on me. I have a horse tied up just a short walk from here but we need to get there first.’

Bin watched as the prince pulled something out of the pouch, draped in a white cloth and smelling like raisins. He gave it to Bin. ‘Eat.’

Hands shaking, he unwrapped the parcel. Inside was a loaf of milk bread, round and sweet-smelling, the crust glossy and brown, one chunk missing where Dongmin must have torn off a piece earlier. The soft white dough inside made Bin’s mouth water.

Dongmin eyed him impatiently. ‘Eat. We don’t have a whole day. I need to get you to Rivervale and then I have to get home and face the wrath of my teacher and my nurse for running away.’

Bin tore off a chunk and put it in his mouth. There was a raisin in it and the sweetness hit his palate so hard it made his eyes water. He blinked the tears away and swallowed greedily, barely bothering to chew. He bit into the loaf again.

‘You don’t need to… You don’t need to help me, Your Highness,’ he swallowed another mouthful. ‘The food is…. Thank you….’

He leaned back and closed his eyes. It wouldn’t do to start crying in front of the Crown Prince again.

‘Shut up and eat and don’t tell me what to do.’

Bin had no difficulty to follow that order; it was hard to focus on anything right now, anything but the taste of bread in his mouth, the softness of the dough melting on his tongue, the gentle chewiness of the crust, the little bursts of sweetness when he managed to bite into a raisin.

‘How are you feeling?’

Bin opened his eyes. The prince was watching him intently.

‘I am much better, Your Highness,’ he whispered, face heating up under the scrutiny. ‘I am forever in your debt.’

‘Oh, shush and eat; I need to go back, I will hear no end of it today. Nurse will have a field day.’

For someone of royal descent, Dongmin sounded surprisingly like an ordinary boy who got into trouble.

‘Why did you run away?’ he mumbled with his mouth full. ‘And you have a nurse?’ he eyed the boy incredulously. ‘But you are a man!’

The young prince ducked his head. ‘I was supposed to have a history lesson this morning, followed by fencing. I like my teachers, I usually don’t run away like that but… Something happened this morning and… I needed to get away for a bit. And no, I don’t have a nurse, not anymore. But she takes care of my younger brother now and I still sneak into his rooms sometimes to talk to her. I miss her. She is old and can smack pretty hard and still orders me around even now… but with her, I could always tell her everything… And when I was little, she never made fun of me when I used to cry. I went to talk to her this morning after my father…’

Dongmin paused, looking away. ‘It doesn’t matter now.’

Bin stopped chewing. ‘What happened, Your Highness?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. And stop calling me Your Highness! I hate it! I hate it, you hear?’

Bin froze as Dongmin hung his head low and started sobbing.

Hesitantly, he touched the boy’s sleeve. ‘I’m sorry, Your Hi-, I’m sorry. What should I call you?’

‘Just call me by my name,’ Dongmin sniffed and wiped at his tears. ‘I just want to be Dongmin now.’

‘I’m sorry, Dongmin,’ Bin wrung his fingers, staring at the remnants of the loaf in his lap. To eat seemed disrespectful somehow; he couldn’t swallow a single bite, now that the young prince cried silently next to him, tears dripping into his lap. ‘What happened this morning?’

He feared the prince would rebuke him for prying but Dongmin merely looked up and smiled bitterly through his tears. ‘I’m about to be married.’

‘But that’s great news, Your Hi-, sorry, Dongmin. Surely that is good, isn’t it?’

‘Why are you not eating?’ Dongmin eyed him sternly and Bin promptly showed a piece of bread into his mouth.

‘So why don’t you want to get married?’ he swallowed hurriedly, mindful not to talk with his mouth full. ‘You are the heir to the throne; you need a family. One day you will be my King.’

Something in Dongmin’s eyes made him redden.

My King.

He should have said our King – but he liked the sound of ‘my King’ a lot more, it somehow felt natural, like it was supposed to be.

Mine.

He hastily stomped down the dangerous thought, down into the very darkest corner of his soul.

‘Have you ever loved someone?’ Dongmin pierced him with a stare that made Bin shiver.

‘Well, I had a sweetheart two summers ago, Your Hi-, sorry, Dongmin. But we… It didn’t… She married someone else in the end.’

He prayed Dongmin would not ask why.

‘Did you love her… What’s your name?’ Dongmin laughed out a little. ‘Here we are, telling each other our secrets – and I don’t even know your name.’

‘I’m Bin. Moon Bin of Riverview.’

“Well then, Bin of Riverview,’ Dongmin smiled at him, eyelashes still damp, but the smile lighting up his face like a lantern. ‘Were you in love back then?’

‘I was too young to know what love was,’ Bin shrugged and avoided the prince’s gaze.

Dongmin shook his head. ‘You are never too young to love.’

His smile faded, replaced by something else, something that told Bin the young prince knew love - and that it was not his bride-to-be, chosen by his father, whom he harboured his feelings for.

‘Then maybe I didn’t love her,’ he whispered quietly. ‘Have _you_ ever been in love?’

Dongmin looked at the crumbs in Bin’s lap. ‘Finish the bread. Don’t waste anything, you need your strength back.’

Bin poured the crumbs into his mouth and swallowed them in one go. ‘I’m feeling much better, Your Hi-… Dongmin. Thank you for the bread; I’m feeling much better.’

He had a distinctive feeling Dongmin was avoiding his question and the bout of curiosity got too much. ‘But have you ever been in love?’

For a moment, Dongmin looked as if he was about to strike him and Bin shrank under his thunderous gaze. This was Prince Dongmin after all, the heir to the throne – and Bin was nobody. He had no right to pry.

In front of his eyes, Dongmin suddenly deflated, as if all life was sucked out of him. ‘I was. Once.’

‘Did she know? Did you tell her?’

‘No,’ Dongmin’s eyes filled with tears again. ‘I never did.’

‘She is a lucky lady nevertheless,’ Bin smiled gently. ‘And you can always remember her, no matter what.’

‘Him,’ whispered Dongmin. ‘I will always remember him.’

‘Oh.’

The fear gripped him so fast, Bin felt light-headed. If shooting a hare in the Crown woods was dangerous, it felt like walking through a rose garden now. Because here he was, listening to the Crown Prince admitting he used to have feelings for a _man_. The second the prince would wake up from this moment of weakness, Bin knew, he would have Bin executed simply for knowing such a thing about him.

As if reading his thoughts, Dongmin smiled weakly. ‘You don’t need to fear. I will not punish you for knowing this about me.’

‘You shouldn’t have told me,’ Bin scolded him quietly. ‘It’s not safe. What if I decided to spread a rumour about you one day? How do you know I am a honourable man? You can't trust people like this.’

Dongmin hung his head. ‘I do not care; I am scared. I am scared that I will go to my grave without having kissed someone I liked. Not even once.’

‘Don’t you like your betrothed, Your Highness?’

Dongmin didn’t chide him for the formality; he didn’t seem to notice it at all. ‘I only met her once. She seems nice enough – but she is a girl. I never wanted to kiss a girl in my life.’

‘It can't be that difficult,’ Bin smiled. ‘You just need to close your eyes and pretend it’s the boy you used to love, I guess.’

‘I know it will sound strange but although I remember him I cannot recall his face anymore,’ Dongmin whispered dejectedly. ‘It was three summers ago. He was my stable boy and one day, me father just sent him away.’

Bin had an unpleasant feeling that Dongmin’s father must have guessed what his son probably wasn’t even able to name at that time and his heart bled for the unhappy boy sitting next to him, a boy who had everything in the world and yet nothing at the same time.

‘Is there anyone in court that caught your eye after that, then? You could picture him, you know.’

The question felt like treason and Bin’s whole body started shaking. He shouldn’t be doing this, this was so dangerous – he could burn on stake for this, oh, he could – but Bin could not help it. ‘You could just picture someone, someone pretty whom you know.’

Dongmin’s eyes were on him, as if contemplating something. ‘Can I kiss you?’

‘What?’ Bin almost jumped out if his skin. ‘Me?’

‘Why not? You are not judging me,’ Dongmin’s cheeks burned crimson. ‘And it would be nice to finally be able to kiss somebody I think beautiful. And you are beautiful.’

‘I am not beautiful, Your Highness,’ Bin whispered, eyes cast down, ‘you are. I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you. Man, woman, anybody.’

Dongmin’s whole face looked like it was on fire. ‘And yet the mere thought of you kissing me disgusts you. Isn’t that so?’

‘No, that’s not true, Your Highness. I simply cannot imagine you would want to kiss someone like me and…’

‘Forget it,’ Dongmin cut in, the voice suddenly sharp. ‘I was mistaken. You see, for a moment I thought… Never mind. I am sure you soon find a lovely girl and you will enjoy kissing her very much. I assure you I will keep quiet about this from now on and after today you will never have to see me again so…’

Bin leaned over and kissed Dongmin on the cheek.

‘Oh.’

Dongmin stilled, fingers hesitantly ghosting over the spot where Bin’s lips touched his face.

‘I would love to kiss you, Your Highness,’ Bin leaned closer, so close he felt Dongmin’s breath warming his skin. ‘I don’t think there is anything wrong with kissing boys. You should be able to kiss whomever you desire to, Your Highness – if they also want to kiss you back, of course.’

‘I hope you don’t say these things out loud very often.’ Dongmin’s smile was a bit wobbly. ‘You could burn for much less than this.’

‘You sound like my mother, Your Highness.’

‘You are talking too much, Bin of Riverview,’ Dongmin whispered so quietly, Bin could barely hear him. ‘But seeing that you were so forward as to hint that I should ask for your permission, I’m asking you now - do you want to kiss me?’

‘I would like that very much, Your Highness,’ Bin didn’t dare to look into Dongmin’s eyes and kept his gaze down, where the hollow of Dongmin’s throat pulsed frantically, the beat as fast as the thrumming of Bin’s heart.

‘Then stop calling me Your Highness and kiss me.’

Dongmin’s lips were sweet. Sweeter than the raisins Bin pulled out of the dough a moment ago, sweeter than honey that he had once pilfered from the innkeepers’ wife’s garden.

Dongmin tasted nothing like the lips of girls Bin had kissed two summers ago, when he had shot up suddenly and turned from a skinny boy into a man, when his father had still been alive and life had been good.

There weren’t too many kisses Bin could remember, those stolen moments in the height of summer in the green fields pulsing with damp warmth, or at the end of harvest, with haystacks smelling sweet and soft, the stray pieces of hay getting caught in those fair curls whose owner Bin couldn’t recall anymore.

Those kisses and touches were nice but their sweetness was fleeting and forgettable, not worth carrying around as something precious that needed to be cherished.

Dongmin’s kisses lit a fire in Bin’s belly that burned all those moments away.

His body betrayed him, forced his hands into Dongmin’s hair, made him press against Dongmin’s chest with his whole might, almost crushing the boy against the bark of the old fir tree.

The desire exploding in his insides scared him and he pulled away abruptly, keeping Dongmin at an arms’ length.

‘Why did you stop?’

‘I… I can't’ do this, Your Highness,’ he panted.

‘Why?’ Dongmin’s lips were swollen and too close. Too close for Bin to think clearly and he forced himself to look away, to train his gaze at the rough patterns of the bark behind Dongmin’s shoulder. ‘You didn’t like it?’

‘I had to stop, Your Highness,’ Bin shook his head, ‘because I liked it too much.’

‘Please, don’t stop,’ whispered Dongmin. ‘ I am getting married in six months’ time and I want to know what it feels like to… ‘

Bin caught a tear that was rolling down the prince’s cheek and wiped it away with his thumb. ‘To… what, Your Highness?’

‘To want.’ Dongmin answered simply and kissed Bin again.

Sneaking under the furs, Dongmin’s hands burned Bin’s skin through his undershirt and Bin’s head spun.

‘Your Highness,’ he gasped, ‘please, stop.’

‘Is my touch so detestable to you?’ Dongmin’s fingers slipped away.

‘No, Your Highness,’ Bin took Dongmin’s hand in his, ‘it’s not that.’

‘What is it then?’

He stroked Dongmin’s knuckles with his thumbs, marvelled at the softness of his skin. ‘If you keep touching me…. I will want to do more than just kiss you. I don’t know what to do - I have never lain with a man – but I know one thing, Your Highness. You deserve more than this,’ he motioned around with his hand.

Dongmin pulled back, shoulders slumping.

‘You said you didn’t know what to do. Don’t worry,’ he laughed bitterly. ‘I don’t know what to do either; I have never been with a woman. I will be a disappointment to my wife,’ he hung his head.

‘It’s not that difficult, Your Highness,’ Bin couldn’t watch the misery in Dongmin’s face and pulled him onto his chest. He let Dongmin curl against him and wrapped the furs around them both, best as he could. ‘You will not be a disappointment, I am sure you will do well. Your young wife might even help you a little if you’re not sure,’ he smiled into the dark hair.

Dongmin’s breath felt hot against the skin of his chest. ‘My bride is barely older than a child, Bin, a virgin as pure as freshly fallen snow. She has spent the last five years in a convent, being taught how to be a future queen – pious, pleasant, obedient. Right now, before the wedding, she is back at her father’s court, learning how to smile and converse with royalty because she will need that – she could barely look me in the eye when we met; I scare her, like all men.’

Fingers that slid under the rough fabric of Bin’s shirt desperately clutched to his side, as if Bin was his safe place, an anchor in the middle of a raging storm. ‘I don’t know what to do, Bin. She will look up to me for guidance – how will I guide her, how will I please her, when the idea of bedding a woman fills me with dread?’

‘You will do well, Your Highness,’ Bin pressed a kiss into Dongmin’s temple. ‘I’m sure of it. But if you want to, you could ask your father to…’

‘To do what?’ mumbled Dongmin glumly into Bin’s chest.

‘There are houses, Your Highness,’ Bin’s ears were burning at the mere thought of what he was about to say, ‘where men go to seek pleasure…’

‘What are you saying?’

‘That your father could take you there and you could learn how to make a woman happy in bed.’

Dongmin looked up sharply, voice shaking with indignation. ‘My father would never!’

Bin’s face heated up. ‘Forgive me, Your Highness! I merely thought… You see, there are places where women would be willing to teach you if you paid them enough. I am sure you know these places exist…’

Dongmin frowned, looking him up and down. ‘Have you ever been?’

‘No,’ Bin shook his head. ‘I’m too poor to afford the nice ones – and the less nice ones are just… not very nice, I’ve heard.’

‘But… Have you ever been with a woman?’

‘Yes, Your Highness. Once.’ Bin looked at his hands, cheeks burning. This whole conversation was taking a turn he had not been expecting at all. He vaguely wondered whether this was a dream and if, in a moment, he would wake up in his little attic room, in his narrow bed, wrapped in an old quilted blanket his mother had made out of scraps of old rags.

But it was not a dream and Dongmin’s eyes were on him, curious, waiting. ‘How was it?’

Bin shrugged. ‘I don’t know; it felt nice.’

‘Was it your sweetheart?’

'Yes.'

‘Why didn’t you get married?’ Dongmin’s voice sounded softer now, more hesitant.

‘Because she said she didn’t want a husband who spent more time looking at her brother than at her.’

‘Oh.’ Dongmin’s pale face glowed white in the darkening forest. ‘Has she guessed…’

‘No,’ Bin shook his head, ‘I don’t think she did. I think she merely thought me a child still, someone who only wanted to play cards with her brother and was up to all sorts of mischief with him.’

‘Did you like him?’

Bin squirmed and looked away. ‘Maybe. It doesn’t matter, Your Highness. He got married this spring.’

Dongmin’s face burned suddenly; it was the redness of anger. ‘Stop calling me Your Highness! I told you not to!’

Bin sighed. ‘But that’s who you are; that’s your life.’

‘But I don’t want it! I don’t want to get married to a meek little girl who is scared of me! I don’t want to become like my father one day, not being me anymore!’

‘But it is your duty, Your Highness,’ Bin whispered and pulled Dongmin closer again, stroking his hair. ‘We all do things we fear, things we despise – things that need to be done. You must marry and sire children; one day you will rule this country. It’s your duty; there is nothing to be done.’

‘Have you ever done things you didn’t want to? I know your lives are hard but at least you don’t need to pretend,’ Dongmin whispered bitterly.

‘I had to beg for favours when our money started running out. Later, I watched my mother sell her jewellery, all the gifts my father had bought her. We had to sell my mare; I cried for a week,’ Bin said quietly. ‘When things got really bad, I used to steal food. We all do things we don’t want to do, Your Highness.’

Dongmin hung his head, buried his face deeper into Bin’s chest. ‘I’m… I’m sorry, Bin.’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Bin smiled and patted the prince’s hand. ‘We all have things we need to bear.'

He pushed Dongmin away gently. ‘We should go.’

He got up stiffly, shook his legs a little. ‘The sun will set soon; it's already getting dark here.’

Dongmin followed suit without a word, head hung low.

A crust had formed on top of the snowy blanket as the warmed up layer started freezing over again and they fought their way through the silent forest, legs sinking deep with every step. They walked in silence, Bin following in Dongmin’s footsteps, eyes on his dark blue cloak.

When they reached the prince’s horse, Dongmin looked relieved to have found it safe and sound, head bowed low as it patiently waited for its master.

‘Her name is Moonlight,’ he stroked the mare’s side gently.

‘She is a beauty,’ Bin breathed in awe as he eyed the tall white beast with kind eyes and long, strong hind legs. ‘Worthy to carry a future king.’

Dongmin’s hands, busy tying up the hare to his saddle, shook a little. ‘You are turning into a poet; we’d better get going before you write a sonnet about my horse. Give me your crossbow.’

‘What?’ Bin instinctively reached back, clutching his weapon protectively.

Dongmin hesitated, looking bashful and young all of a sudden. ‘I am not going to take it; but I thought I could carry it and you can sit in front of me. That way you can lean on me and rest a little.’

Bin reddened. ‘Are you sure, Your Highness?’

More assured, Dongmin stretched out his hand and waited for Bin to relinquish his weapon. ‘Yes, I am sure. We need to take the road, I don’t want to risk the shortcut through the woods and break her legs in the deep snow, now that it will be getting dark soon. It will take much longer and you are exhausted.’

Now that he was reminded of it, Bin could feel the tiredness settling deep into his muscles again. Without further protest, he handed over his crossbow and watched as Dongmin mounted the horse with practised ease, despite the sword, bow and his crossbow weighing him down.

Bin gratefully took the prince’s offered hand and hauled himself up. The shyness overtook him at first and he sat stiffly in the saddle but Dongmin laughed a little, wound his left arm around his chest and brought their bodies closer.

‘Lean back and rest. I'm used to riding like this with my brother; you just need to scoot down a little so I can see better. Hold on to the saddle.’

Bin slid down a tad and found himself nestled comfortably against the prince’s chest. Dongmin pulled at his cloak and wrapped it tightly around them both.

‘Rest; I know the way. Once we get close to Rivervale, I will wake you up and you will show me how to get to your house.’

Dongmin took the reins and Bin closed his eyes. It felt like a being in a cosy nest; Dongmin’s cloak was warming his knees and Dongmin’s arms holding reins were keeping Bin snuggly in place.

‘It feels weird to be told to go to sleep in the middle of the day,’ he mumbled shamefacedly.

Dongmin’s quiet laugh warmed his hair. ‘Do not worry; just close your eyes.’

Bin did as he was told. After a while, it stopped feeling awkward, the closeness of Dongmin’s body, his warmth. Once they reached the road, he let his head go empty and simply succumbed to the gentle trot of the horse, to the feeling of Dongmin’s arms keeping him safe.

..................................

‘Bin.’

The voice came from the distance, indistinct, hazy.

‘Bin, we are here.’

He woke up with a start. At first, he couldn’t remember when he was, cheek pressed into a tunic that smelled like rosewater, but when he lifted up his head, Dongmin’s face was above him, grinning widely.

‘I am glad I was able to wake you up. You were snoring pretty loudly.’

Bin’s cheeks burnt. Hastily, he wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth. ‘I don’t snore!’

‘You were snoring now.’ Dongmin chuckled into his hair.

Bin rubbed his eyes. In front of them, the valley stretched wide in a soft reddish glow. The sun had just set and the last orange strip of light was disappearing on the horizon behind the snowy peaks of the Dark Mountains. Houses of Rivervale in the depth of the valley blinked sleepily in bluish shadows, the river winding through their midst like a wide ribbon, now covered in darkened, cracked ice.

Dongmin waited for Bin to straighten up and shake off his sleepiness. They simply watched the countryside for a while, soaking up the view.

‘It’s beautiful.’

There was awe in Dongmin’s voice, ringing true and raw, and Bin’s heart swelled. ‘It is, Your Highness. And you should come here in summer, when you can swim in the river and just lie in the sun on the riverbank.’

‘I would love to come one day,’ Dongmin sounded wistful. ‘But we only come to High Castle in winter, for the hunting season and Christmas. We spend the rest of the year in the Citadel.’

Bin had heard stories about White City far in the south, big and sprawling over acres and acres of land, with beautiful palaces and churches lining its streets, with luscious gardens full of roses and pomegranate trees and fountains that sprinkled water in summer – and, of course, about the Citadel, the residence of the Royal family, built out of white stone and perched on top of a smooth tall rock high above the city.

He wished he could see White City one day. To see Dongmin one more time after this day was over.

‘Maybe you could run away again in summer,’ he suggested jokingly.

‘Rivervale is three days’ ride from White City.’

‘Oh.’

A heavy silence settled between them. When it became almost unbearable, Bin cleared his throat and pointed to a house that nestled a little away from other Rivervale cottages, higher up the hill. ‘See, You Highness? That’s my house. The Riverview Cottage.’

‘You house is called the Riverview Cottage?’ Dongmin laughed a little incredulously. ‘That’s a very grand name.’

‘We have the best view from there, Your Highness. My father built the house so my mother would like it and so that she would marry him.’

‘Wow. Build a house, win a heart of a woman. It sounds so easy.’

‘She loved him, Your Highness,’ Bin said quietly. ‘And not just because of the house.’

‘I apologise,’ Dongmin sounded embarrassed. ‘I am sure your mother loved your father very much.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey.

The darkness had already settled on the land when they dismounted in front of the Riverview Cottage. The shutters were closed, the front yard quiet. A flicker of a single lantern could be seen through one of the windows though; Bin knew it was his mother sitting in the kitchen, waiting anxiously for her son to return.

Now that the moment came, Bin found he didn’t want to say his goodbyes and let Dongmin leave.

‘I wish you didn’t have to go, Dongmin,’ he whispered quietly, not daring to look into the prince’s eyes. Speaking such words felt almost like treason – but he didn’t care.

Dongmin inhaled sharply and took Bin’s hand. ‘Would you… Would you like to stay with me, Bin?’

Bin prayed his mother wouldn’t run out of the house now, seeing him and the Crown Prince holding hands and gaze into each other’s eyes. Nothing good would ever come of that.

‘I would give everything if I could stay by your side, Your Highness, but how?’

Dongmin smiled a little, as if he knew a secret, one he wasn’t prepared to share yet. ‘I take you can ride a horse, Bin?’

Bin was a little surprised at the sudden inquiry but if the question meant Dongmin would linger for a moment longer, he was not the one to argue. ‘I am a skilled rider; we used to keep several horses when I was younger, when my father was still… alive. We sold all of them later… as I told you before… but I can ride.’

‘And I know you shoot well,’ Dongmin cast him a sideways glance, one corner of his mouth curled in a cheeky smile.

‘I do, Your Highness,’ Bin grinned back.

‘Hm…’ Dongmin tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘Can you wield a sword?’

That one was a loaded question and Bin paused, suddenly cautious. ‘Why are you asking, Your Highness?’

‘Answer me.’

‘We are not at war,’ Bin chose his words carefully, ‘and peasants are not allowed to carry a sword, Your Highness.’

‘Yet many do,’ Dongmin smiled, eyes bright, not a hint of anger on his face. ‘Don’t fear, my father knows it – and tolerates it, for most part. The roads are often dangerous and he understands when a village blacksmith makes a sword for his son if he needs to travel far. There are other things for him to worry about. So,’ he pierced Bin with a direct stare, ‘can you wield a sword?’

Bin blushed and cast his eye down. ‘Not as well as I can shoot but my father used to teach me.’

Dongmin stepped closer and lifted up Bin’s chin. ‘Would you be willing to die for me, Bin of Riverview?’

Was this it, Bin wondered. The price to pay for knowing too much?

He swallowed hard and felt his knees shake. ‘I would die for you right now, Your Highness. You can kill me with your own hand.’

‘What?’ Dongmin’s eyes crinkled. ‘No! I do not wish to kill you! Stop being afraid, you fool. I am offering you a place in my personal guard.’

Bin nearly sobbed out in relief. ‘I am honoured, Your Highness.’

‘You would need to be trained at first, of course. And my personal guard doesn’t exist yet; only the King has one. But the day I get married I will get one. Because my value would have increased tenfold, once our country has secured an alliance with our southern neighbours,’ he grimaced bitterly.

‘Thank you, Your Highness but…’

Once the panicked fog in his head cleared, Bin paused in his thanks. ‘It is truly a great honour but… I can't leave my mother and my sister. They need me, Your Highness. We have the land, I’m needed here, they depend on me.’

For once, Dongmin looked like someone of noble blood and wealth, unbothered by such matters. ‘That can be arranged,’ he waved his hand dismissively. ‘I shall send some money to your family and they can hire help. And you as a Royal Guard, once you have finished your training, will receive a monthly sum for your upkeep. It’s yours to do as you wish; you can decide to give some of it to your mother.’

Bin gripped his crossbow, legs suddenly shaking. Things were going way too fast and he wasn’t sure he liked the direction in which they were going.

‘You are trying to buy me… like a toy, Your Highness. I don’t care much for the sound of it.’

Dongmin looked like he had been slapped in the face. There was a long, painful silence before the young prince opened his mouth again.

‘I don’t, Bin. Please. I swear it is not what I am trying to do. But I can't bear a thought of going into all of that… my new life… alone.’

The sight of Dongmin wringing his fingers as if he was a beggar and he, Bin, was a prince himself, was making Bin’s heart bleed.

‘I could write an appointment letter tomorrow and have it delivered here. My father and his court will be here for the next six weeks, which means you could spend that time with your family and then come to High Castle and join us just before we leave for the Citadel.’

He took Bin’s hands in his. ‘Please, don’t leave me alone. Please. Come with me.’

‘Your Highness,’ Bin sighed and tried to pry his fingers away but Dongmin’s grip was too strong. ‘Even if I say yes, even if I join the Royal Guard, you will hardly see me. I will be training, away from the palace, I’m pretty sure – away from you.’

‘But after your training is finished and you become a full member, you and your fellow guards will accompany me everywhere - to my meetings, to dinners, while hunting. The Royal Guard will be guarding my every step – in the chapel during my morning prayers, in the Grand Hall during banquets, every night in my bedchamber.’

In my bedchamber.

Bin’s head spun.

‘Why do you _really_ want me with you, Your Highness?’

Dongmin looked like a boy about to confess to his first love, ears glowing red. ‘I… I could use a friend… A friend in front of whom I don’t need to pretend. A friend with whom I can be me.’

Bin recalled Dongmin’s kisses in the woods, his fingers under Bin’s shirt scorching his naked skin, the taste of Dongmin’s tongue in his mouth, desperate and hungry.

His own desire, the tightness of his breeches at the mere thought of Dongmin in a wide, soft bed, his hands on Bin’s body again, shocked him to the core.

‘Is.... Is that all, Your Highness?’ he whispered breathlessly. ‘Can you swear on your new bride’s head that you will never ask more of me? That you will never want me to be more than your protector and a friend?’

The silence in the middle of the darkened front yard felt like eternity. Bin stared at the frozen mud under his feet, counting each one of Dongmin’s shuddery breaths.

An owl hooted somewhere in the sky above and the horse whinnied at the sudden sound, making them both jump.

Bin summoned the courage to look into Dongmin’s eyes. The young prince’s face was luminous in the faint light of the starry skies above – but despite its ethereal beauty he looked in pain.

‘What is it, Dongmin?’ whispered Bin. ‘Tell me the truth. I need to know the truth before I say yes.’

Dongmin’s hands gripped his fingers so hard Bin could almost feel his bones cracking.

‘I can't promise you that, Bin.’

Tears started rolling down Dongmin’s cheeks. ‘I want to promise you that I will only be your friend – but the truth is… I fear that if you come with me, there will come a day – I don’t know when, perhaps it will never happen – but I fear that one day I will need more from you. When I will want your body – and your heart. When I will need your love.’

He wiped his tears away and gripped Bin’s fingers again. ‘I should not be asking this of you - it’s forbidden, it’s dangerous – but it’s the truth. I want more right now, Bin,’ he started crying again, ‘but I will try not to lead you into temptation. I will do my best; I will do my best to be a good husband and a good friend. But will you come, Bin, please? Will you come with me - even while knowing that in my heart I desire you more than anything and that one day I might grow weak and ask for the whole of you - for everything? Please? Will you come with me?’

Bin’s head felt strangely detached from his body.

‘I will come with you, Your Highness.’

His own words sounded to him as if they were spoken by someone else. ‘I will come with you and I will give you everything you want from me - if you promise me to try being a good husband and a good king one day. If you promise me you will try really hard to be a good man.’

‘I promise.’

Bin smiled and took his gloves off. His fingers on Dongmin’s skin, wiping his tears away, felt like they were touching something sacred.

Dongmin pressed a kiss into his fingertips. ‘Can I kiss you one more time, Bin, before I go?’

Bin smiled gently. ‘You need to start practising some self-restraint, Your Highness. You promised you would try hard.’

Dongmin laughed through his tears and kissed Bin’s fingers one more time. ‘I can see you will be a giant pain in the backside, Guard Moon.’

‘You can depend on that, Your Highness,’ Bin gently prised his hand out of Dongmin’s grip. ‘You should go, before your father sends a search party.’

‘I should,’ sighed Dongmin.

He untied the hare and gave it to Bin. ‘Your bounty. Poached fair and square.’

‘Thank you, Your Highness,’ giggled Bin and bowed low. He frowned at the sight of Dongmin passing him a big leather pouch. ‘What is it?’

‘One more loaf of the milk bread and some honey biscuits. And a piece of cheese. Please take it; I feel bad that I distracted you in the woods – you would have caught more had I not butted in.’

He ignored Bin’s protests and showed the pouch into Bin’s hands.

Bin knew when to give up. ‘Thank you, Your Highness. My sister will be delighted.’

‘Can you… Can you call me Dongmin one more time? Please?’

‘Goodbye, Dongmin,’ Bin couldn’t resist and stroked Dongmin’s cheeks one more time.

He watched the prince getting into the saddle and his heart clenched.

What has he done?

As he listened to the sound of hooves on the frozen mud track, he had a feeling that he forever changed the course of his life, even if he couldn’t see the path just yet.

When he couldn’t make out Dongmin’s silhouette anymore in the inky darkness, he crossed the quiet yard and opened the heavy front door.

At the sound of the hinges creaking, his mother came running. ‘My boy! Where have you been? It’s pitch dark; I thought something happened to you! And who was the lord you were talking to right now? I saw his horse and his cloak – that wasn’t anybody from the village.’

‘No, it wasn't,’ Bin sighed and followed his mother into the kitchen where, despite the late hour, a small fire was still flickering in the hearth.

He put the hare and the leather pouch on the wooden table, the surface scrubbed clean and empty.

‘I have news, Mother.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence and some sexual content ahead

**Year 63 of the House of Lee. The Month of Budding Leaves.**

‘My darling wife. I’m so proud.’

The Queen was reclining in bed, her face as white as the beautiful nightgown she was wearing. Her smile was weak but the tears rolling down her cheeks were happy tears.

Dongmin pressed a kiss onto her forehead and she gripped his hand with a sob.

‘Have you seen him, Your Majesty?’

From the corner of the room a weak sound emerged, a tiny wail of a newborn baby.

‘I have. He is strong and healthy, just like his mother.’

Dongmin sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’

His wife looked at him gratefully. ‘Tired but grateful, Your Majesty. What did the Nurse say?’

Dongmin laughed. ’She says he has a good pair of lungs on him. And that he will beat up his older brothers in no time.’

From across the room, he exchanged a smile with an older woman who held the baby and was overlooking an army of midwives and maids running around and getting in the way in the general excitement that followed a royal birth.

‘Could Your Majesty please tell Father Yoo to come to bless the baby?’

Dongmin gulped down what he was about to say and nodded. ‘I shall summon him tomorrow.’

The piety of his Queen was something Dongmin had learned to live with a long time ago. It grated but he knew he shouldn’t be complaining; his wife’s daily prayers and good deeds would one day make up for his sins, both the past and the future ones.

He kissed his wife’s hair. ‘You rest now; I will make sure Father visits tomorrow. And there will be a mass tonight to give thanks for the safe delivery of our son.’

‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ the Queen squeezed his fingers once more, her eyelids drooping already.

Dongmin stood up and crossed the room where his old nurse welcomed him with a beaming face. ‘Isn’t he beautiful?’

Having known the King since he was born, the old woman was the only one able to get away with not addressing him formally.

She and the Commander of the Royal Guard – but only the King witnessed the latter to do so.

‘He looks like a strong boy,’ Dongmin smiled at the tiny red face, now sleeping peacefully in the arms of a woman who would give his life for him and his three sons.

‘He looks even more beautiful than you were when you were born,’ she smirked at Dongmin, ignoring the gasp of a young midwife who was taking away a basin of water.

‘Good,’ Dongmin smirked back. ‘I can't be the only beautiful man in this kingdom; finally I will have some competition.’

‘God will strike you one day for your impudent words, Your Majesty,’ she retorted, the smile on her wrinkly face belying the stern choice of her words.

‘I am a sinner,’ Dongmin sighed in a dramatic manner, ‘but I hope my good wife will ensure a tiny corner in heaven for me through her virtue and charity.’

The Nurse swatted at him with a swaddling cloth but he ducked and laughed. ‘I shall visit tomorrow morning; I know you will have everything under control until then.’

‘Go, Your Majesty, have a rest. And I trust you will behave when Father Yoo visits tomorrow.’

‘I will be on my best behaviour and keep my thoughts to myself.’

‘I hope to God you will,’ the old woman muttered darkly.

The King was already on his way out, his footsteps loud even on the soft rugs covering the wooden floor.

‘Commander,’ he nodded at a tall man who stood at the door the whole time, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Moon Bin followed the King out of the chamber without a word.

……………………..

Their footsteps echoed on the stone tiles in the corridor, Commander Moon half a step behind the King, as was fitting for his station.

‘What are your plans now, Your Majesty?’

‘Before I retire for the night, I still need to answer some letters.’

‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’

‘I will send for Minhyuk and you can go and get some rest, Commander. I want you on duty in my chambers for the night.’

‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’

Hand already reaching for the doorknob to his study, Dongmin paused. He almost told Bin not to call him that but swallowed the words just in time.

‘Allow me, Your Majesty.’

Bin opened the door and scanned the room. After making sure it was safe he stepped aside and let Dongmin pass.

Once inside, Dongmin loosened the ties on his tunic, as if he was short of breath, and reached for a carafe of wine standing on a little table near the window. He poured a generous measure into one of two bejewelled goblets standing next to it, then reached for the other one. ‘Wine, Commander?’

‘I don’t drink while on duty. You know that, Your Majesty.’

Dongmin set the goblet down. ‘I’m disappointed, Commander Moon. Not even today? To celebrate my son’s birth?’

He turned away and beckoned to the servant who was standing quietly in the corner. ‘Go and send for Officer Park Minhyuk from the Royal Guard. He should report for duty for the next two hours and release the Commander.’

‘Yes, Your Majesty,’ the servant bowed and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

The moment the door swung shut, Dongmin exhaled. He gulped the wine down in one go and sunk into the chair behind his desk.

He bent forward and rested his forehead on the polished wood. ‘I have three sons, Binnie. I have three sons.’

‘Congratulations, Your Majesty. I am very happy for you.’

‘I’m happy too, Binnie. I’m just… I feel so alone.’

Bin’s face remained impassive, his stance didn’t change, but there was a hint of softness in his voice. ‘I am sure Your Majesty is tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day. Maybe a good night’s sleep would be advisable.’

Dongmin lifted his head, piercing Bin with his eyes. ‘Could you stop calling me that when we are alone?’ he whispered.

‘It’s a habit, Your Majesty,’ Bin smiled softly. ‘Besides, now is not the time and place; my second in command will be here any moment. Maybe we leave it until we are in your chambers.’

Dongmin straightened up, eyes gone a little cold, and reached for the pile of letters in the middle of his desk. ‘You are right, Commander, as always. You are always right.’

Bin inhaled sharply, his composure crumbling for the first time, but a loud knock on the door made him shut his mouth and swallow the retort he had ready.

‘Enter!’ Dongmin gripped the letters, hoping his face give nothing away, no hint of the inner turmoil, brewing under the surface of his collected demeanour.

Park Minhyuk entered, Bin’s second in command, one of the most capable members of the Royal Guard.

‘Your Majesty,’ he bowed and turned to Bin. ‘Commander.’

‘Thank you, Minhyuk,’ Bin nodded shortly.

Ostensibly, Dongmin was scanning the letters. He could feel Bin waiting and a small part of him enjoyed the wait, Bin’s eyes on him, even if he couldn’t see it. After a heartbeat, he waved a hand, not looking up.

‘Thank you, Commander. You may go.’

……………………………

Dongmin leaned out of the window, letting the cold blast of wind sooth his burning face. It felt good and he almost asked Minhyuk to bring his cloak so that he could slip outside, into the vast palace gardens, and let the storm whip at his clothes and hair and numb his restless spirit.

Although the spring had been in the air for the last couple of weeks, winter, it seemed, didn’t want to relinquish its hold on the capital and for two days in a row icy north gales had been bringing freezing air from the Dark Mountains and with it the last remnants of winter into White City.

Fighting the urge to escape, he closed the window instead, securing the latch tightly.

The howling wind outside was barely noticeable behind the thick stone walls. His bedchamber was warm, fire crackling cosily in the massive hearth. The big four-poster bed was made ready, the heavy blankets inviting, waiting for his tired body to sink into the feathery softness.

Dongmin loosened his topknot, letting his hair tumble down his back. He briefly massaged his scalp, feeling the beginning of a headache.

‘Go and find Commander Moon,’ he turned to Minhyuk who stood quietly at the door, almost blending into the richly embroidered tapestry hanging on the wall.

He could see the guard hesitate. ‘I shouldn’t leave you alone, Your Majesty.’

His patience was running thin, the last shreds of it dissipating rapidly with the onset of pounding behind his temples.

‘Go and find the Commander!’ he snapped impatiently. ‘Nobody will assassinate me while you walk to the Guards compound. Go!’

‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’

Even with unease written all over his face, Minhyuk still offered a respectful bow and quietly left the bedchamber.

Dongmin started pacing the room, his whole body shaking. To have Bin standing guard in his room for the night was a stupid decision, a dangerous one, but he felt something unravelling in his head and he needed Bin at his side.

He needed him.

A smooth, heavy pebble was resting on the table, next to a bowl of sweetmeats. It was a keepsake, one that his eldest son had found last summer on their short stay in High Castle – a nice, pleasant time spent splashing in the river with the boys and all four of them feasting on picnics together in the meadows around Rivervale, forgetting for a week he had a country to rule.

Rivervale.

The feel of sun on his face, the warm smell of grass. His wife’s fingers carding through his hair as he rested his head in her lap.

Bin watching them from a distance, his gaze alert, focused.

Bin watching him.

He grabbed the stone and hurtled it across the room. It smashed against the wall and fell to the floor with a loud thud, ricocheting across the wooden floorboards.

‘Your Majesty?’

Without knocking, Commander Moon swung the door open, almost falling through the doorstep.

‘Are you alright, Your Majesty?’

Dongmin stopped, panting. ‘What?’

‘I… I heard a noise, Your Majesty.’

Dongmin run a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to laugh and cry at the same time. ‘All is well, Commander. Come in and lock the door.’

Bin shut the door and turned the key in the lock. ‘Are you alright, Your Majesty?’

‘Stop calling me that, Bin! Stop!’

‘Shh, Your Majesty, shh,’ Bin rushed over and scooped him in his arms. ‘I’m here.’

‘Can I be myself with you, Binnie? For once?’

Bin’s arms were a safe haven, a place where Dongmin could finally let himself go. He leaned into Bin’s shoulder and started sobbing.

‘Shh,’ Bin pulled him gently towards the bed. ‘You had a very tiring day.’

He helped him to climb under the covers. ‘You haven’t slept for two days. Even kings need to sleep.’

Dongmin grasped his hand. ‘I feel like a liar, Binnie. Especially on a day like this. Here is my wife, who has just given birth to my son, and she is looking at me as if I was the hero today. I am an impostor, Binnie. I don’t deserve her love.’

‘You are our King and a good husband to the Queen,’ Bin pushed a strand of hair out of Dongmin’s face.

‘I’m not a good husband,’ Dongmin whispered unhappily. ‘I can't give my wife what she deserves.’

He stroked Bin’s knuckles with his thumb. ‘I don’t love her.’

He watched Bin’s cheeks turning pink. ‘The Queen seems happy.’

‘Oh, I know she is content,’ Dongmin huffed. ‘I am kind to her, I bed her often enough and make sure she finds pleasure in it too, not only me. I show her that I value her kindness towards others, her charity. I don’t make fun of her devotion to God – and that one, Binnie, will make all my hair turn grey one day, you know that,’ he ignored Bin’s snicker. ‘But I don’t love her, Binnie.’

He gently kissed Bin’s palm. ‘I don’t love her.’

Bin pried his fingers out of Dongmin’s grasp. ‘She doesn’t know it, Your Majesty. You make her happy and that’s what is important. You are a good ruler; we are not at war and haven’t been for the last twenty-five years. You have kept the legacy of your father alive. And you are a good husband. The members of the Royal Guard don’t marry and don’t have families – but we listen to the gossip of the court. It’s part of our duty; to keep you safe we need to know what’s going on. And the mood in the Queen’s quarters is good – the Queen and her ladies in waiting are happy.’

‘Thank you for spying on the Queen for me,’ Dongmin huffed but the corners of his mouth lifted up in a smile.

‘I would do anything for you, Your Majesty.’

King’s demeanour changed. ‘Anything?’

A hint of colour bloomed in Bin’s cheeks. ‘Anything.’

He pressed a kiss on Dongmin’s forehead and got up hurriedly. ‘Sleep, Dongmin. You need a proper rest; you don’t want to look like a sceptre of death when you’re visiting the Queen and your little son tomorrow.’

‘I love you,’ Dongmin grabbed his hand, stopping Bin in his tracks.

For a moment, a shadow passed over Bin’s face, a shadow, which warned Dongmin to say no more. He carefully pulled his hand out of Dongmin’s grip.

‘I love you too,’ he whispered softly. ‘Sleep well, my King.’

Dongmin reached out his hand once more but caught only emptiness as Bin stepped back and resumed his position at the door. ‘Only yours, Binnie.’

……………………..

The moment he opened the door to the Queen’s antechamber for Dongmin to enter, Bin could feel the drastic change in the mood since the night before.

‘The Queen is not well, Your Majesty,’ the Nurse whispered in a hushed tone, carrying a little basin of water to the bedchamber. The old woman’s hands were shaking a little, more than could be explained by her old age.

‘But how? She seemed fine yesterday?’

The King didn’t sound the way he usually did, his deep commanding voice full of confidence. Staring into the Nurse’s eyes, he looked every bit like a scared young father, terrified of things he had no control over.

‘She has a high fever, Your Majesty. It could be nothing - but we don’t know for sure.’

There was something in the Nurse’s eyes, the sideways glance she cast in Bin’s direction that made Dongmin almost bark at her. ‘What? Speak, woman, there is nothing you can't say in front of the Commander!’

The old woman’s face burned and she squirmed uncomfortably under Dongmin’s thunderous gaze.

‘It’s the milk, Your Majesty,’ she sighed. ‘We engaged a wet nurse for your son, as it should be, and it is usually painful for the first couple of days, the breasts are swollen – until the milk goes away - but the Queen is much worse this time, not like before.’

‘So send for the wet nurse to bring the child!’

Both the Nurse and the King turned and stared at Bin in disbelief.

He reddened under their scrutiny but didn’t lower his gaze. ‘The Queen needs to nurse her son; it will help with the swelling and the pain. Go, what are you waiting for?’

‘I will not have her Royal Highness, our gracious Queen, have a child suckling at her breast, ruining her lovely figure, as if she was a common peasant woman!’ the Nurse gasped in indignation.

‘But it is the quickest way to relieve her suffering! And send for someone to brew a pot of mint tea; there must be dried mint leaves in the kitchens; that will lessen the milk flow.’

The old woman looked as if she was about to faint from the embarrassment at discussing the state of Queen’s breasts with a man, and the Commander of the Royal Guard at that.

‘We are already doing that,’ she murmured, head bowed low.

‘Good,’ huffed Bin. ‘So – get the child. Quickly!’

An awkward silence ensued.

Seeing nobody was moving, Bin turned to Dongmin. ‘Send for the wet nurse, get the child here, Your Majesty. Please! Go!’

Dongmin’s face grew colder. ‘I trust the Nurse; she took care of the Queen after every birth and the Queen was always in good hands.’

‘But it’s not helping now!’

After realising he was shouting, Bin checked himself. ‘Forgive me, Your Majesty. But I would strongly suggest to get the child here and let him feed. The Queen’s breasts are full of milk that causes her a lot of pain – and the fever. Don’t let her suffer, please. Don’t let the fever get worse – if we do nothing, the Queen might be beyond our help. Do you want to take that risk, Your Majesty?’

The air in the room was so thick with tension it was almost hard to breathe. Dongmin looked as if he was about to slap Bin across the face. After what felt like eternity, he inhaled slowly and turned to a young maid who was cowering in the corner, watching the exchange with wide, terrified eyes.

‘Get the wet nurse and the child.’

The girl bowed and left the room hurriedly, two long braids bobbing down her back as she ran.

Dongmin threw Bin a murderous look, breathing heavily through the nose. ‘You stay here, Commander.’

Together with the Nurse, he entered the Queen’s bedchamber, slamming the door behind him.

The minutes passed. Bin stood by the door, listened to the quiet words behind the closed door, to Queen’s small whimpers and a yelp of pain as, he guessed, the Nurse examined her condition.

With a loud noise, the door to the antechamber flew open and a tall young woman entered, a baby in her arms. The little maid was hovering behind her, cheeks red and hair flying. She must have run for her life, Bin observed and smiled softly at the young, terrified face.

Out of breath, the wet nurse clutched the baby to her breast. Bin didn’t know her, she was a new face in the palace, but her strong cheekbones and something in the curve of her nose told him she was from the North, like himself, and he felt an immediate kinship.

‘They are inside,’ he jerked his head towards the door of the bedchamber, letting a hint of the Northern accent seep into his words and calm her down. ‘You are expected.’

The faint echo of her home in Bin’s words, so different from the soft, drawing lilt everyone spoke in the capital, took the girl by surprise.

‘Thank you, My Lord.’

There was hesitation in her address – she either didn’t know who Bin was or maybe the young maid had already spread the gossip about their argument and the wet nurse was unsure whether she would be received after all - but after a second, she exhaled more easily and offered Bin a wobbly smile. She adjusted the cloths the boy was swaddled in, smoothed her hair and bowed quickly. ‘We are ready, My Lord.’

Bin didn’t think to correct her – there was not a drop of noble blood in his veins – but now was not the time to dwell on such details. The Queen needed help.

He opened the door to the bedchamber. ‘The wet nurse, Your Majesty.’

The young woman cast her eyes down and entered. She bowed low, the King’s presence clearly making her uncomfortable.

Bin hovered behind, not stepping over the threshold. His presence was not welcome, he could read it in the fleeting look Dongmin threw in his direction, hard and closed off. The Nurse was even worse, completely ignoring his presence.

Gripping the baby a little tightly and the ample bosom heaving with nerves, the wet nurse approached the bed with a shy smile. ‘We are here to help, My Lady.’

The Queen eyed the girl and smiled back a little hesitantly. She was a dainty woman, with pale cheeks and strikingly blue eyes, contrasting sharply with a mass of black curls tumbling down her back. Now, however, her face was flushed and her eyes, usually clear and bright, were red-rimmed and glistened with fever.

‘Thank you, my child,’ she whispered quietly, the maternal tone at odds with her youthful appearance. Bin knew she was probably younger than the girl by a good couple of years at least, but the time spent by the King’s side had meted out the girlish shyness out of her and replaced it with calmness and grace.

Bin, however, remembered the terrified young bride from six summers before. No matter how twisted his life became – and on some nights, tossing in his narrow bunk and staring out of the window, he did wonder how he ended up where he was, in a position where he was so much more than a friend but never quite the lover – but no matter how hard he wanted to loathe the shy, beautiful girl who took Dongmin away from him, who had the King at her side and in her bed; he didn’t hate her.

The Queen had Dongmin’s name and his body – but Bin had his heart.

For that, and that only, he allowed himself to feel affection towards the woman who stood quietly by the King’s side, day in and day out, content with the smiles and kind words that Dongmin offered her - words and smiles that might have reached his eyes but which didn’t reach his heart.

He wasn’t fooling himself, he had felt hatred – a burning, scorching hatred during that awful first year after Dongmin’s wedding, with images of Dongmin in the Queen’s arms torturing him every night – but as time passed, he learned to like the tiny, beautiful woman next to Dongmin, learned to value her kind deeds and her fairness, saw the love she showed towards her servants, and learned to appreciate the quiet way she grew into King’s rock, a solid rock he could lean on.

Bin loved his Queen now – and although he loved Dongmin more, he would be damned if he let her suffer.

‘Commander.’

King’s words, short and clipped, woke him up from his reverie. ‘Come in, Commander.’

He entered the room hesitantly, not quite sure what to expect.

The Queen was in bed feeding her son, the young nurse at her side, holding the child’s head and whispering encouraging words. Bin lowered his gaze quickly, aware of the awkwardness.

As a young boy, he saw women feeding their children, even if it was not a common sight – but a peasant’s life was hard, the work never-ending and small infants, rocking gently in makeshift hammocks outside, next to their mothers toiling in the fields, was something he grew up with.

As if sensing his unease, the Queen covered her child with thin muslin and smiled. ‘Thank you, Commander. I am beginning to feel better already.’

Bin kept his eyes on the floor. ‘I am truly relieved, Your Royal Highness.’

‘The Queen would like to thank you for your advice, Commander Moon.’

Dongmin’s words made Bin shudder with unease.

‘And I, too, think you need a reward for your wisdom, Commander,’ sneered Dongmin darkly.

There was a sharp intake of breath and Bin finally looked up. The Queen straightened up a little, the look on her face that of fear. ‘My dear husband…’

‘Quiet,’ Dongmin put up a hand, silencing her.

He turned to Bin. Their eyes met, Bin full of defiance, Dongmin’s flashing with cold fury.

‘Ten.’ The words weren’t loud or spoken in a threatening manner but Bin’s insides clenched with anger as he gazed into Dongmin’s eyes and waited for what he knew was coming.

‘Ten lashes for disrespecting me in front of my wife and the servants.’

He knew better than to speak up.

…………………….

‘Bring me the Commander’s whip.’

Sanha looked at the King as if he was about to faint but Minhyuk intervened swiftly. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Standing in the middle of the Royal Guards compound, in the square used for morning drills and training, Bin felt gratitude. The King might have been furious with him but he didn’t intend to humiliate him publicly.

He supposed it counted for something.

The whole Royal Guard had been assembled and he stood in the middle, stripped down to his breeches, awaiting the punishment.

Minhyuk appeared, carrying the whip. His smooth face didn’t betray anything but Bin knew his most trusted officer well enough and judging by the way Minhyuk’s fingers clutched the handle, Bin could tell his second in command was only one short step away from throwing the whip into King’s face.

Bin was proud to see the loyalty. He was even more proud when Minhyuk managed to pass the whip to Dongmin, bow respectfully and step into the middle of the square, next to him and Sanha, without any mishap.

He could handle being flogged. However, he didn’t particularly want any of his guards, his children in all but blood, to suffer the same fate.

‘Hold him.’

There were leather straps tied around his wrists, the ends hanging loose, and both Minhyuk and Sanha grabbed them and pulled, spreading his arms wide, as if he was Jesus, going to be nailed on the cross.

I fitting image, Bin thought bitterly.

He braced himself for what was coming. For a fleeting moment, it occurred to him that it would have been easier to get flogged publicly in the main square, like the common thieves and beggars, where he would be tied up to an ancient oak. If you were hugging a tree, there was something to hold onto. Something to press your face against to hide the tears.

‘Commander.’

Dongmin looked at him – but didn’t really look at him. Standing in front of him was a man Bin didn’t know yet saw every day. Not his Dongmin, just the King.

‘Are you ready to accept your punishment?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

The King didn’t prolong the wait; he too, perhaps, could see the unease rippling in the ranks of the Royal Guard.

He circled around, stopped behind Bin’s back. ‘You will count, Sanha.’

Bin could hear the boy whimper and prayed to God Sanha would not fail in his task. The darkness settled on Dongmin’s face didn’t bear any good news, certainly no indication of lenience when it came to not obeying his orders.

The first crack of the whip felt like it ripped him in half.

His body arched through the searing pain, only half-listening to Sanha’s choked out cry.

‘One!’

The second strike landed higher, across his shoulder blades, and he doubled over, groaning, trying desperately to keep upright. He couldn’t afford to stay bent, not with another blow that would soon follow, sending his upper body to the ground and probably dislocating both of his shoulders, with the way his arms were stretched tight.

‘Two!’

He braced himself, not sure whether it was worse, the knowledge of what was coming, or better because the initial shock had passed.

‘Three!’

It felt like being hacked into pieces by a meat cleaver. The coppery taste in his mouth told him he must have bitten his tongue to prevent himself from crying out.

‘Four!’

Sanha started sobbing but Minhyuk hissed at the boy to shut up and count. Bin was desperately grateful to have Minhyuk by his side; he could not only rely on the man in any situation, he also – somehow, illogically – felt his silent support.

‘Five!’

The cracks of the whip and Bin’s grunts were the only sounds echoing through the square. The guards listened in stony silence, frozen.

‘Six!’

Flogging as a punishment was not an everyday occurrence in the Royal Guard – Bin was not a great supporter of it, arguing that it incapacitated his men unnecessarily – but it happened often enough for everyone to accept it as something that needed to be doled out on occasion. If it couldn’t be helped, Bin himself made a quick work of it, trying to stay his hand from going too hard, trying not to let the leather cut too deep.

‘Seven!’

Bin keened as he desperately tried to hold it together. He had been flogged before, during training, for some minor transgression, but he remembered the old Commander, a tall man with kind eyes, who seemed to hate it even more than him and whipped him almost carefully – if there was such a thing as careful flogging – making sure the blows didn’t break the skin.

‘Eight!’

The King didn’t have such scruples. Bin felt the wetness; he knew the lashes split his back and crimson droplets were already colouring the white sand under his feet.

‘Nine!’

His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, defeated. The sense of shame washed over him – for not facing it bravely, stone-faced, with a straight back – but there was no time to wallow in it because the last lash landed across his shoulders, almost sending him sprawling into the sand, had it not been for his arms stretched taut and keeping him painfully in place.

‘Ten!’

The moment Sanha cried out the last count, he started crying, heaving sobs shuddering through his whole body. Bin tensed, almost expecting another blow, the King punishing him for Sanha’s tears, but Dongmin ignored the sobbing boy, walked past him and stood in front of Bin.

For a moment everything stilled, the only sound Bin’s shuddery gasps; then the King spoke.

‘I expect you on duty tomorrow night, Commander. In my chambers.’

He felt saliva and blood dribbling down his chin as he struggled to find his voice but the King didn’t wait for an answer.

The whip, wet with blood, landed in front of Bin’s knees and Dongmin left, the hem of his cloak sweeping the bloody sand in his wake.

…………………….

‘Don’t you ever, ever, disrespect me like that in front of others, Binnie.’

Dongmin paced in front of the hearth, face hard, harder even than the harshness of his words.

Bin stood at the door and kept his face neutral. ‘I shall not, Your Highness.’

‘The King paused in front of him. ‘And stop calling me that here!’

Bin’s insides shook with anger. ‘You can't have it both ways, Your Majesty. You either treat me like your friend and I call you Dongmin – or we leave it and I become just one of those who serve. And then please whip me every time I try to help you.’

Dongmin spun on his heel, face white. ‘It was not helping me! Don’t you understand?’

‘It is true, Your Highness,’ Bin sneered. ‘It was not supposed to help _you_. I did it for the Queen!’

‘The Queen might have gotten better without your help, we don’t know!

‘Well, that’s the thing, we don’t know!’

Bin struggled to keep his composure; he was only one short step away from yelling – and he couldn’t afford to. The palace walls were thick but they were not _that_ thick.

He took a deep breath and it calmed him somewhat, the lungful of air slowing down the menacing flood of words that threatened to pour out and destroy everything in its wake.

‘How many dead people have you seen in your life, Dongmin?’ he looked at the King, voice lower if not much calmer. ‘Have many times have you watched people die? From hunger, from disease? Tell me because I sure as hell have seen more – and it’s never a pretty sight. I didn’t want the Queen to die!’

‘Oh, Binnie.’ The King’s gaze softened for a moment, then the grim mask of anger set on his face again.

‘You could have waited. You could have told me later, when we were alone.’

‘Why?’

Searing, the anger flashed in Dongmin’s eyes again.

‘Because you contradicted me in front of other people, Commander! Because you were ordering me to do something – like I was your servant – while others were watching!’

For a moment Bin’s brain clouded over. The memory of Dongmin’s furious face in the Queen’s chamber seemed hazy. He could not, for the love of God, remember who else had been there.

‘What other people?’

‘The little maid, for once. And the Nurse; she was there,’ Dongmin hissed. ‘That woman is devoted to me - she would die for me and the Queen and the boys - but she doesn’t like you, Binnie.’

‘What? Why?’

Bin’s mind reeled. For the first time in his life, he became aware of waters, deep and murky, that sent ripples through the court after every action, after every gesture, every whisper – including his own.

He had always considered himself exempt from the court gossip. His duty was to listen to it - to detect any threats directed towards the King – but not once in his life did he think he himself could become the subject of any of them. The sudden revelation took the wind out of his sails and he stared at Dongmin, feeling faint.

‘Why doesn’t she like me?’

Dongmin ran a weary hand over his face, the fire in his voice gone. ‘She thinks I rely too much on you. That you are too close to me, that you put ideas into my head. That I listen to you too much. And there are others, saying the same. Only a couple of ministers – and they are certainly not saying it to my face – but the rumours are starting. About me favouring you, about you wanting to gain more influence, to gain more power.’

The King’s face was so close to Bin’s he felt the other’s breath on his skin.

‘People are starting to talk, Bin.’

The fact Dongmin didn’t call him Binnie, the softness gone from his voice, chilled him to the core.

It told Bin the King was afraid.

‘But… We haven’t... We haven’t done anything,’ he whispered lamely, aware how foolish, how naïve he sounded. The wagging tongues had been known to make things out of thin air before – and there was a lot more than air in the crackling tension between him and Dongmin, even if they had resisted the pull for years, even if there had been nothing in their actions that accusing fingers could point at.

It was the thought that counted.

Bin knew his thoughts were far from innocent. The darkest corner of his soul - the place where he hid the desire he had felt in the forest above Rivervale all those years ago - that secret place in his head was tinted with jealousy and lust, filled with images of Dongmin in his arms, naked and wanting.

‘Do they – people – know?’

‘No,’ Dongmin shook his head, face grave. ‘But it wouldn’t be a big leap from complaining about you being too soft a leader to being too close to me… to... being something more.’

Bin had no response to that. He knew Dongmin was right.

During his first year as a head of the Royal Guard, some had questioned Commander Moon’s approach; they thought him too ‘soft.’ But those complaining were often courtiers and ministers who only witnessed the odd brief exchange between the Commander and his subordinates, the joviality and fondness that was apparent form his every word, the lack of fear in the young guards’ faces.

He spoils them, was the general consensus. When the rumours reached King’s ears, he laughed and invited a selection of ministers to inspect the Royal Guard with him. After seeing the brutality of their training – and after Commander Moon jokingly invited the ministers to join them for a sparring session - the gossip was put to rest once and for all.

Bin had felt grateful for Dongmin’s support, and relieved, but soon forgot about it. He hadn’t been too worried – if people questioned his professional ability to do his duty they had every right to look into his methods. It was about the King’s safety, after all. He felt confident he would stand up to their scrutiny – and he did.

This other kind of gossip scared him to the core, however. It seemed minor at first sight, merely bitter, jealous whispers - but it was about Dongmin. And kings, too, could be accused of things, things against God, things against nature.

There were sins even kings could burn on a stake for.

His whole body started shaking uncontrollably.

As if sensing the turmoil in his head, Dongmin lifted his hand and touched his cheek gently.

‘I had to do it, Binnie. I am sorry. I had to show I was in charge, that I was the King.’

‘I understand, Your Highness.’

‘Please don’t do it again, Binnie. Never. If it is a matter of my security, I will always listen to your council – it is your duty to keep me and my family safe and I trust the Guard. As the Commander, you can tell me what to do. I might not heed your advice but I will listen to what you have to say and I will consider it. If I invite you to a council meeting because I want your opinion on some matter, you are welcome to speak and argue and call me foolish if you deem me so. But never contradict me like that again. Please.’

Bin’s eyes filled with tears. He could deal with Dongmin’s anger – he had maintained a stony silence during the flogging, during those humiliating hours afterwards, facing the pitying and concerned looks of his fellow guards – but Dongmin’s palm gently cupping his face was too much.

Dongmin’s thumb gently swiped at a tear rolling down his cheek.

‘I am so sorry, Binnie. I was so furious, so angry with you for what you did – it was so reckless. And I felt sick when I had to punish you – but I had to. Being the Commander of the Royal Guard doesn’t give you the right to be treated differently. I couldn’t afford to let it slip, not with the Nurse’s eyes watching you like a hawk. I am afraid, Binnie. Afraid I could lose you. We mustn’t give anybody any excuse to gossip. We must be safe. You need to understand that.’

‘I do. I do understand that, Your Majesty.’

‘Call me by my name, Binnie. Please.’

‘I understand, Dongmin.’

‘Can you forgive me?’

‘I forgive you.’

Dongmin leaned into him and Bin carefully wrapped his arms around his shoulders. Every movement hurt but he was used to pain, the aches from everyday training and pain from injuries, so he barely flinched as he pressed the King against his chest.

‘How is your back?’ whispered Dongmin into the crook of his neck.

Bin smiled a little thinly, ‘You flogged me; you should know.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Dongmin lifted his head and Bin watched with horror as the King’s eyes filled with tears.

He wiped Dongmin’s tears away, his hand a little clumsy as even moving his arms hurt. ‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘I want to have a look,’ Dongmin disentangled himself from Bin’s hug.

‘No!’

‘I have a salve here; it’s really good for wounds.’ Dongmin pointed to a little bowl sitting on the table. ‘I had the court physician make it for me today; I said I scraped my knee,’ he shrugged, clearly embarrassed. ‘You will get the best of the best.’

‘We have an excellent physician in the Royal Guard. I trust him to have done everything he could for the wounds to heal nicely.’

‘Please,’ Dongmin gulped uneasily. ‘At least take the chainmail off. I can't watch you, knowing how it must hurt underneath.’

It did hurt – although Bin didn’t particularly mind. He also didn’t need to see the wounds to know what they looked like, having seen a fair share of them in his life – long gashes across his whole back, skin split and hopefully now crusted over with dried blood.

His only worry was if the wounds got infected. He had witnessed it way too many times as a young boy - the cuts with which men came from the fields or woods, the swelling which would slowly spread, the pink stripes sneaking as malicious snakes under the skin, the fever, then later delirium and death.

He prayed the clean dressing and the ointment his physician had applied right after the flogging would prevent it from happening but one never knew.

Dongmin watched him hesitating but didn’t make a move to leave. ‘Please take it off.’

‘But-‘

Something desperate in Dongmin’s eyes stopped him in his tracks and he nodded. He put his sword and belt away, then turned to Dongmin, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. ‘Can you help me?’

Carefully, the King lifted off his chainmail and Bin bit his lips as he slowly raised his arms and let it slide over his head.

He felt lighter.

Before he had time to lower his arm – or to protest – Dongmin grabbed his shirt and pulled it off too.

Bin jerked with surprise and hissed as the sudden movement pulled at his scabs.

His wounds were dressed with thin clean squares of muslin thorough which seeped a thick, fatty substance – clearly the ointment applied by the guards’ physician. Thick bandages held the dressing in place, winding around Bin’s torso and his shoulders in neat layers.

‘See, Your Majesty? I am well taken care of.’

‘I want you to take them off.’

‘No!’

Panic rose in his throat but Dongmin looked at him sadly. ‘I feel bad about what I did to you; I am merely trying to make it better. Please.’

Not being able to bear the sadness in Dongmin’s eyes, Bin finally nodded and allowed the King to unravel the bandages, slowly, one by one.

Dongmin was careful and precise, winding the cloths into tight little rolls and putting them aside.

‘Lie down,’ he whispered when he finished.

Bin blushed but didn’t move. Surely the King wasn’t telling him to lie in his own bed?

‘On the bed.’

Cheeks burning, he obeyed, lying down on his front and cushioning his cheek on his forearm, watching Dongmin getting the bowl of ointment and a clean cloth from the table.

‘I will wipe off the ointment and apply this one. Please, will you tell me if I’m hurting you?’

Bin hummed a shy yes and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. It felt strange to be half-naked in the King’s bed – too close, too dangerous - and despite his back stinging as Dongmin was wiping off the ointment, he had a hard time to control his wildly beating heart.

‘Can you tell me one more thing?’ Dongmin set aside the cloth and started applying a fresh layer. ‘The Queen – how did you know what to do?’

Bin felt his face growing hot. ‘It doesn’t matter. Peasants see things; it’s part of our lives.’

Dongmin’s fingers paused for a moment. ‘But I need to be sure it is safe and that I listened to you only because you knew what you were doing. I need proof it is not some dubious practice someone might accuse us of.’

‘Oh.’ Bin could see the King’s point but it didn’t make him feel less uncomfortable.

‘Do you remember,’ he began tentatively, turning his face away, ‘when I told you about my sweetheart?’

‘Yes?’ Dongmin nodded, sounding confused. ‘What about her?’

‘She was a young widow; her husband fell off a horse and died only weeks after their wedding. I used to be friends with her brother – I told you that – and after her husband’s death, his parents didn’t want her around so she returned to the house where she used to live with her brother before marriage, her parents having died some time ago.’

‘I think she was lonely and I was simply there, almost every day. She was very pretty and I felt like a proper man, having an older, beautiful woman showing me she liked me.’

He felt oddly naked, recalling events from such a long time ago, times he almost never thought about anymore.

‘Anyway,’ he whispered, acutely aware of Dongmin’s fingers sliding across his back, ‘soon after we got together, she found out she was with child. I knew it wasn’t mine – we haven’t… but I thought it would be nice to have a family, a wife, a wee little boy, or a sweet girl, as pretty as her mother. I… I was in love with her brother but I knew that would never happen so… I thought this a nice way of staying close and…’

Bin paused and waited while Dongmin shifted and started on his lower back.

‘Once she started showing, people began to talk. Thinking it was my child she was carrying. I wanted us to be wed straightaway, not to give people anything to slander her with, but she only laughed, called me a sweet boy and promised we would have a wedding after the child was born. She said she didn’t wasn’t to stand before the altar with a big, swollen belly. I agreed, there was nothing to be done, she was stubborn, as a mule.’

He chuckled at the memory.

‘When the child was born – he was a strappy little boy – he was the spitting image of his father. I saw it when I came to visit her after the birth. I was only allowed to stay for a short while but everyone could see that. That was the first time I guessed we might not be getting married after all.’

‘I wasn’t really welcome in her house during her lying-in. The midwife and her aunt looked after her; they saw me almost as a child, and since now the father was confirmed, it was as if suddenly I had no right to see them at all.’

Dongmin paused a little. When he resumed the massaging, he was even gentler than before.

‘I used to sneak in during the night, just to be there. I would lie next to them, watching her nursing her little boy and held him while she slept. She lied to the midwife and said the child was a sound sleeper and the old woman believed her and went to sleep in the kitchen. I would sneak in through the window and was happy to be with them for at least a bit. Maybe two or three days after the birth, she suffered the same way as the Queen. I watched her face contorting in pain every time he let the boy latch on but after a while it got better. She used to drink the mint tea, the midwife said it helped if a mother had too much milk, and after a couple of days the fever and the swelling disappeared.’

He shrugged, not looking up. ‘That’s how I know.’

‘What happened to her, Binnie?’ Dongmin asked softly.

‘After six weeks, when her lying-in was about to end,’ Bin felt his cheeks burn and was glad he couldn’t see Dongmin’s face, ‘one night… she put the boy down to sleep while I was there and… and she took off her nightshirt and… I didn’t want at first, not with the boy right there, but she put him down in his cradle and pulled the curtain on her bed – and I guess I was weak.’

His voice wobbled.

‘That was my only time I was with a woman. I didn’t really know what to do but she just smiled and said she would teach me. Afterwards, she told me she had a visit from her late husband’s parents and they begged her to come back, now that it was clear the boy was their blood. You see, his father was their only son – so they suddenly wanted their grandchild. I guess… I guess it was her saying goodbye to me.’

‘Oh, Binnie.’

‘It’s no matter, Your Majesty,’ he gulped down. ‘But back there, in the Queen’s chamber, I knew what I was doing. I have seen it before – and I knew a wet nurse would know exactly what to do. I apologise for being disrespectful but I wanted to help the Queen.’

‘And I thank you for it, Binnie.’ Dongmin gently stroked his back, careful not to touch the wounds.

‘Forgive me for being nosy - but what happened to the girl?’

Bin shrugged. ‘She returned to her in-laws, stayed with them while she was nursing the boy, them left the child with his grandparents and left the village. Last time I heard of her, she lived somewhere here, near White City, was married to a shoemaker and had three children.’

‘And her brother?’

He turned his head away. ‘He is married too. But I told you that – back when we first met.’

‘I’m sorry, Binnie, I won’t pry anymore.’

Silence reigned in the room after that. Dongmin finished spreading the salve over Bin’s back and put the bowl back on the table. When he returned to the bed, Bin expected him to put the dressing back but the King lay down next to him and propped himself on one elbow.

‘Leave it like this for a while. It must feel more comfortable without all the bandages.’

Dongmin was right and Bin closed his eyes, enjoying the cooling feel of the ointment, the freedom of his naked skin with nothing scratching against it.

He jerked with shock when the King’s lips pressed against his shoulder.

‘What are you doing, Your Majes- Dongmin?’

He could feel Dongmin smile against his naked skin. ‘I have you in my bed; I would be foolish not to,’ he whispered.

Bin gulped, panicked. ‘We shouldn’t,’ he gasped, goosebumps suddenly prickling his skin.

‘Why?’ King’s lips slid onto his back, careful not to touch the wounded flesh. ‘God, I want you so much.’

Bin squeezed his eyes shut. Was this it? The desire tightening his belly was betraying him, no matter how much he wanted to lie to himself. He was getting hard and it would be so easy to succumb. Dongmin was right there, kneeling next to him on the soft bed, trailing his lips down Bin’s back, his fingertips skimming Bin’s sides.

After six years, was this how he would finally give in to temptation? His whole body was screaming at him to do it, the desire in him so strong in almost hurt, but he was trying desperately to cling to the last shreds of his resolve to resist.

Dongmin’s mouth slid lower and Bin groaned, feeling dizzy.

‘I don’t think I will be able to wait much longer,’ Dongmin slipped his hand between Bin’s thighs. ‘Can you feel it, Binnie?’

Dongmin’s breath was hot against his skin and, oh, Bin could feel it.

He looked at Dongmin over his shoulder.

‘You had me flogged for talking back because you wanted to protect me but bedding me right here, in your chamber, is safe?’ he whispered mockingly.

Dongmin laughed softly and kissed his lower back. ‘Nobody questions the presence of a guard in my chamber. People are used to see one of you around me at all times; no one thinks it odd.’

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of Bin’s breeches. ‘The walls are thick, the other guard is outside in the corridor and the Queen’s quarters are too far – so as long as you don’t scream my name too loudly we should be safe.’

With Dongmin’s lips burning his skin, Bin struggled to think clearly, but something in the King’s words made his insides churn with unease.

The Queen’s quarters.

The Queen.

He pushed Dongmin’s hands aside. ‘Dongmin. Don’t. Please, don’t.’

Dongmin let go but his face was soft. ‘I am sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Of course. You are hurt, you are in lot of pain - I understand.’

Bin gulped uneasily. He sat up, ignoring his body protesting at his every move.

He took Dongmin’s hands in his. ‘It’s not the pain I’m afraid of. It’s… ‘

He looked into Dongmin’s eyes and squeezed his fingers, as if holding on to a lifeline. ‘I know I promised that one day I would give myself to you – but please don’t ask that of me today. The Queen has just given birth to your son – these are good times for you. You should be on your knees thanking God she is recovering and that your son is healthy, not rolling around in bed with me. I can’t do it, Dongmin. I would feel like a whore if we did it now, while the Queen is in her chamber, holding your newborn son. Please, don’t make me…’

Dongmin shook his head, sounding alarmed. ‘I would never force you to do something you don’t want, Binnie. How would you even think that…’

The King looked genuinely pained at the thought and Bin felt bad.

‘I know you wouldn’t,’ he whispered hastily. ‘But I did promise to give you everything one day…’

‘You mean,’ Dongmin frowned, ‘that if I asked you to do it - as your King – you would?’

Bin felt himself redden. ‘I… I would… You are my King. And I love you…’

’I’am ashamed that I made you think that,’ whispered Dongmin. ‘That you think you need to say yes because I’m the King.’

’It’s not because of that,’ Bin stroked his fingers. ‘It’s because I love you.’

Dongmin buried his head in his hands and groaned. ‘I am sorry, Binnie. You are a good man. I don’t deserve you.’

‘No,’ Bin gently prised Dongmin’s fingers off his face. ‘Dongmin. Listen. I am yours – and I will be one day, I promise. Just not today. It wouldn’t be right.’

Dongmin hung his head. ‘I do not deserve you. Yet here I am, the King, listening how my Commander is showing me what it means to be an honourable man.’

He lifted his head, eyes suddenly ablaze. ‘But I want to be worthy of you, Binnie.’

He got off the bed and sank to his knees, gripping Bin’s hands in his.’ I swear, Binnie, I shall not ask anything of you anymore. I love you and I want you – but I shan’t say a word from this day on. One day, when you decide I am worthy of your love, will you come to me then?’

Bin choked out a sob. ‘I will.’

He made a move to get up but Dongmin pushed him back into the mattress, made him lie down again. ‘Sleep. I will wake you up before dawn and I will dress the wounds, so that you can leave on time.’

The King watched Bin’s doubtful expression and smiled a little. ‘I am quite good at dressing wounds, it’s one of my hidden and surprising talents – you’ll see tomorrow.’

He smoothed the hair out of Bin’s face and pressed a kiss onto his forehead. ‘Rest, Commander.’

Bin wanted to ask where Dongmin would sleep but found himself too exhausted to open his mouth, to question the King’s decision to let him stay in his bed, to doubt whether this was a good idea at all. His eyelids drooped.

Some time later, he felt the bed creak as Dongmin lay down next to him. A warm hand took his fingers and he wondered vaguely, sleepily, whether the King would stay true to his promise not to touch him. He half expected Dongmin to press against him, to try again – but nothing happened. He fell asleep with the King’s soft breath next to him and his lips almost touching Bin’s fingertips.

At some point in the night he thought he heard Dongmin crying but in the morning he convinced himself it had been a dream.


	3. Chapter 3

**Year 65 of the House of Lee. The Month of Summer Solstice.**

Hurried footsteps slapped loudly across the inner courtyard of the Royal Guard compound.

Yoon Sanha sprinted towards Commander Moon’s cell and hammered at the door with his fist. ‘Commander Moon! Commander!’

‘Enter!’

Bin’s room was like any other in the compound, sparsely furnished with a narrow bunk, a small chest for private possessions and a window overlooking the courtyard. The only difference to other guards’ cells was its size, allowing enough space for a big table constantly covered in scrolls and books, and several maps nailed to the walls. 

‘Yes, Sanha?’

Commander Moon made it his business to know each one of the Guards by his name; he knew the provinces they came from, how many siblings they had and what their favourite dish was. Yoon Sanha was one of the younger recruits; he had joined the training four years ago and joined the Guard after two years of training. Only Bin himself and Minhyuk had a faster track of progression from a trainee to a fully-fledged guard. 

‘Commander, you need to come at once!’

‘What is it, Sanha?’ he eyed the boy sternly, already reaching for his sword.

‘The King, Commander! The King!’

Bin didn’t wait for more and stormed out of the room with Sanha at his heels.

‘Which way?’

‘The Rose Garden.’

Sanha’s response was sparse, the words clipped. Bin was grateful that since joining the ranks, the boy had learned to control his emotions; he was rapidly becoming one of his most capable guards and Bin knew Minhyuk, in particular, saw the boy’s potential and often subjected him to more gruelling training than Bin himself would have done. Sanha didn’t seem to mind the tough love and, if anything, he idolised Minhyuk to the point where he wouldn’t mind if Minhyuk asked him to lie down in front of a horse and get trampled on. 

‘What’s happening?’ he barked at Sanha as they strode through the corridors. ‘Was there an attack?’

He didn’t start running yet; the situation needed an assessment first.

‘No, no attack.’

Sanha’s answer calmed him down some – but not by much.

‘Is the King in danger?’

‘No.’

There was a definite hint of unease in Sanha’s voice and Bin felt his patience running thin.

‘What is it then?’

‘I… Minhyuk sent me… The King is acting strangely and he thought you might be able to… to calm him down?’

A wave of cold unease clenched Bin’s stomach and he broke into a run.

Besides the odd servant rushing past, they barely met anyone in the long corridors. Most of the courtiers and ladies-in-waiting preferred the privacy of their chambers while the court was in mourning. There were no excited squeals upon hearing the new juicy pieces of gossip, no laughter, no shouting or good-natured insults. Even the exotic birds in large cages, which the late Queen loved so dearly, seemed subdued – as if the loss of their Queen robbed them of their song.

From the shady coolness of the corridors, they charged down a short flight of stairs into the gardens, suffocating in the midday heat. 

Blinded by the sunlight, Bin hesitated only for a moment. He sprinted across the lawn in the middle, earning himself disapproving glances from a group of court ladies strolling alongside wide walks shaded by pergolas, heavy with sweet jasmine, climbing roses and vines.

‘How strangely is the King acting? What exactly is he doing, do you know?’ 

Through a stone archway on the edge of the lawn they barged into the fernery, where the scorching sun gave way to cool shadows under ancient firs and yew trees. Water was trickling down big boulders covered in moss, down onto feathery ferns and big-leaved hostas.

Sanha’s long limbs almost gave in at the damp gravel as they rounded the corner.

‘He is picking the roses.’

‘What?’

‘The Queen’s roses. With his bare hands. All of them.’

Bin nearly tripped over his feet. ‘What?’

Sanha slowed down. Panting, he grabbed a fistful of ivy trailing down a brick wall, fingers ripping off the dark, glossy leaves. He glared at Bin and gulped down uneasily.

‘The King is in the Rose Garden, picking all of the Queen’s roses with his bare hands.’

‘Sanha,’ Bin grabbed the boy by his arm sharply, bringing him to a halt. ‘ Speak clearly. Is the King in any danger?’

‘No, Commander, I don’t think His Majesty is in any… real danger.’

‘Why the alarm then?’

‘Minhyuk told me to get you right away. He told me to run.’

Bin stilled. Although not running anymore, his unease grew. He trusted Minhyuk’s judgement and Sanha’s words unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. He let go of the boy’s arm and motioned him to hurry. 

Through a little archway in the wall, they emerged in the sunlight again, in the cook’s herb garden, the heady scent of lavender, rosemary and sage rising in the hot air. The sand under their feet radiated heat; Bin could almost feel it through the soles of his leather boots. The bees buzzed the around them, heavy with sweet nectar.

Bin rubbed his forehead, trying desperately to calm down. He couldn’t afford to have his judgment clouded by his feelings; panic would not help now. But the time since the Queen’s death a week ago was a nightmarish string of days when Dongmin - face a frozen mask of pain - went through his daily tasks like a man possessed, barely allowing himself time to breathe, and nights when he lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling for hours on end.

The fact that Minhyuk had sent for Bin told him that no matter how bad things had been, they now went from bad to worse.

He paused and forced himself to calm down, to stomp down the panic sprouting like poisonous shoots through his heart. The box hedge in front of them was the boundary separating the fragrant beds of chives, thyme and marjoram from the Rose Garden. 

‘You can go, Sanha. Thank you.’

The boy eyed him, a little uncertain, but bowed without a word and left.

Bin breathed in the heady, sharp scent of the herbs and stepped through a narrow opening in the hedge.

It was time to face the King.

The Rose Garden was a hidden jewel of the palace grounds, a small enclosure on the edge of the vast gardens – an oasis of peace where the late Queen used to spend many a pleasant afternoon in the company of one of the gardeners, an elderly white-haired matron for whom roses were everything. From late spring to autumn, the Queen could be found here almost every day after lunch, kneeling amongst the beds and inspecting the buds or pruning. The two women would lead lengthy discussion as to which type of dung was the best for what variety and whether the chalk added to the soil for nutrition should be crushed to dust or broken into small chunks.

When the boys were little, the Nurse would often bring them after their afternoon nap, their chubby legs breaking into a run after spotting their mother amongst the flowers. Dongmin, after having spent his customary hour or two after lunch dealing with letters or preparing for a Council meeting, would meet them in the late afternoons. He would listen patiently to his wife’s excited voice reporting on the progress of a particularly stubborn variety he had bought for her overseas, then gave the boys piggyback rides on his shoulders and tickled them so badly that the Nurse rolled her eyes behind his back and muttered to the gardener something about ‘his Majesty wanting to be peed on.’

Bin would watch from the distance, feeling a little dizzy from the sweet heavy scent and trying to be invisible. He didn’t know much about roses but had learned with time to appreciate their delicate beauty. He would train his eyes on the first fragile cream-coloured buds in spring, followed by an abundance of Queen’s favourites, a vibrant pink variety, the heads full and so heavy, they looked permanently like sleepy fairies. With time, Bin learned to distinguish them all. It was better than watching the happiness in front of him.

Bin’s favourite was a row of unassuming bushes in the corner, with dark glossy leaves and pale red flowers, the petals fading into orange around the edges. His mother used to grow them in her little garden in Rivervale and when he spotted the first buds opening, he would always stand nearby and close his eyes for a minute. Just for a short while, it was bliss to feel far away from White City, from the Citadel, from the life where he watched his love smile at children sired with another woman and holding hands with her.

……………………..….

_‘You favour those, am I right, Commander?’_

_The Queen must have noticed his longing glances at some point because she stopped right in front of him, holding a particularly beautiful bloom, the stem straight and long._

_‘Take it. It would please me very much.’_

_What would be seen as a scandalous gesture if done by any other woman – a married lady of noble blood, giving a flower to a man who was not her husband – when done by the Queen, was such a sweet and innocent act that even Dongmin seemed to melt at the sight and simply smiled softly and nodded at Bin who stood frozen to the spot, feeling his face growing hot._

_‘Thank you, my Queen,’ he whispered. ‘My mother used to grow them when I was young.’_

_He bowed and took the flower from her, careful not to touch her fingers. ‘Thank you.’_

_She smiled at him. ‘They will be blooming for a while now. Feel free to pick some when you miss home, Commander.’ She inclined her head a little, eyes suddenly thoughtful. ‘When was the last time you have visited your family?’_

_He felt his lips tremble and was furious with himself for it. ‘Two summers back, my Queen. At my sister’s wedding.’_

_‘That’s nice. Has she been blessed with a child yet?’_

_‘Yes, my Queen. They have a little girl; I got a letter from my sister not so long ago; she is just learning to walk.’_

_The Queen’s face softened. Although adoring her two sons, Bin knew from the court gossip that the Queen, who was with child again, was hoping for a girl this time._

_‘What is she like, Commander?’ she whispered softly, her hand subconsciously moving onto her stomach, although flat still and not betraying her condition yet, in a protective gesture._

_He looked at the slender girl who for a moment looked as lost and lonely as he felt inside._

_Different longing, same pain._

_He shook his head slowly. ‘I haven’t seen her yet, Your Highness.’_

_‘Oh,’ the beautiful blue eyes clouded over._

_As if awakening from a dream, the Queen turned briskly to Dongmin who was chasing both boys around a stone birdbath in the middle of the garden. ‘Your Majesty. Commander Moon would be eternally grateful if you granted him a leave to go and see his family.’_

_Dongmin straightened up, taking his sons by their hands, absentmindedly motioning them to be quiet._

_‘Has something happened, Commander? Is your mother not well?’ his voice rang worried._

_Bin clutched the rose a little tighter. The familiar sweet fragrance hit his nose and made his eyes water._

_‘No, Your Majesty,’ he gulped down the tears. ‘My mother and sister are well.’_

_‘All the more reason to go see them while it is not too late still.’_

_Something in the Queen’s quiet words told Bin she knew homesickness well._

_Dongmin stepped closer, watching in alarm as tears spilled down Bin’s cheeks. ‘Would you like to go and visit your family, Commander?’_

_Bin’s chin wobbled and he squeezed his eyes shut for a second. ‘Please, forgive me, Your Majesty…’_

_Dongmin let go of his son’s hand and wrapped his arm around the Queen’s shoulders. ‘There is nothing to forgive, Commander. You can go tomorrow. A fortnight.’_

_‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’_

_…..…………………….._

_‘I will miss you, Binnie. Be safe. And send greetings to your family.’_

_Dongmin took Bin’s hand and kissed his fingertips. ‘I feel ashamed that I am such a selfish man. My wife saw with one look what I didn’t see at all – how lonely you are.’_

_‘It is my choice to be here. By your side,’ Bin pulled his hand away gently._

_Dongmin gulped uneasily. ‘Do you hate me sometimes, Binnie? For the life that I make you lead, so empty, watching me and my family having things you never will?’_

_Bin shook his head. ‘I don’t hate you.’_

 _He had to watch the distance between them; the bittersweet pull in his chest was making him wanting to lose himself in Dongmin’s warmth - so close, so tempting. ‘I don’t want a family; I want…’_

_‘What do you want, Binnie?’ whispered Dongmin, moving closer, but Bin sidestepped to the door._

_‘It doesn’t matter, Your Majesty,’ he smiled softly, allowing his fingertips brush Dongmin’s cheekbone for a fleeting moment._

_He opened the door of Dongmin’s study. ‘I shall see you in a fortnight. Please, send the Queen my thanks.’_

……………………………

Now – four years after the memory - the Queen was gone and the garden, despite looking resplendent in its beauty, became a place full of thorns.

Bin took in the scene.

Minhyuk was standing by the northern entrance, face set like a stone.

The old gardener, her back bent and hair gone completely white under her cap, was standing near the middle section, where a row of imposing bushes loomed tall, bearing dark purple, almost blue flowers. Dongmin had the exotic beauties delivered for the Queen three summers ago and she had pampered them like another child of hers until the plants grew strong and healthy and astounded all with their strong stems, delicate pale green leaves and blooms that looked like they were made out of the most precious dark velvet.

The old woman was leaning heavily on a stick, looking as if she had aged ten summers overnight. Her lips were trembling in disapproval but she was silent, the wrinkly fingers gripping her walking stick and shaking badly.

Next to her, Dongmin knelt in the soft soil. Systematically, he was breaking off stem by stem and letting them fall on the ground.

Bin felt bile rising in his throat. He watched Dongmin’s hands, his palms full of thorns and bleeding, red droplets splatting down on the pale green leaves.

Next to the King, the old woman’s voice shook almost as badly as her hands. ‘Your Majesty…’

‘Leave.’

Dongmin didn’t look up, merely shuffled on his knees a little further and started tearing off the buds from the next bush, delicate blooms, small and fragrant, the white petals hiding a cream-coloured middle. He stopped bothering with the stems – Bin couldn’t tell whether it was because of the pain his bleeding hands were causing him or because it was quicker.

The white heads falling on the path were coloured crimson.

Bin fought the nausea churning in his stomach. He caught Minhyuk watching him and gave him a quick, reassuring nod, even if he could feel the sweat trickling down his spine. A plan was forming in his head, hardly more than a vague idea, but his legs were already moving, the words coming out of his mouth without hesitation.

‘Go find Chancellor Park and tell him the Council meeting will be postponed until tomorrow. Tell him the King would like to visit the Queen’s grave this afternoon, spend some time there in meditation and prayer. When you’re done, get two more guards and meet us at the main gates.’

The first officer’s face didn’t betray any emotions. Minhyuk, after giving a brief nod, disappeared swiftly through the hedge and headed for the palace.

Bin approached the King, the movements calm and unhurried, like a rider trying to calm down a panicked horse.

‘Your Majesty.’

He kept his voice steady and quiet, making sure not to come too near.

‘Commander Moon!’ the woman’s voice rose hysterically but Bin put a finger to his lips and shook his hands a little.

‘Do not worry, Mother. I will help the King.’

The woman stared at him in confusion.

‘His Majesty wanted to pick some roses and bring them to the Queen’s resting place. I will help him. You may go.’

He could tell the old woman was not fooled but she didn’t protest and, without another word, started hobbling towards the herb garden.

As she was passing Bin, she rested her hand on his shoulder for a brief moment. 

‘God bless you, Commander.’

Bin gulped down, the unease clenching his insides. He had no idea whether his plan would work but it was worth a try.

Dongmin looked up.

‘I asked you all to leave!’

‘Everybody is gone, Your Majesty.’

‘You too. Leave!’

‘No, Your Majesty. I must stay. It is my duty to protect you.’

Dongmin laughed mirthlessly. ‘Can you protect me from myself, Binnie?’

Bin didn’t answer. He knelt down into the soft soil and, pulling a knife out of his boot, he started cutting off the overlong stems of roses that were piled up next to Dongmin.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Making them neat and tidy, all the same length. The Queen loved them; they will look beautiful in the chapel.’

The sharp inhale of Dongmin’s breath told him that the King stopped short of berating him for being presumptuous but Bin kept his eyes stubbornly on the task ahead. A neat pile of dark roses next to him grew bigger.

‘Would Your Majesty like some of the white ones too?’

Now he regretted not having learned the names of any of the roses, not having listened more carefully to the Queen when she used to lovingly describe her ‘children’ to anyone who would listen. But these were desperate times and Bin hoped his rather clumsy approach would do.

‘I know Your Majesty prefers these short, sweet-smelling ones to the more showy varieties. Shall I add some of them?’

He glanced up, keeping his eyes seemingly blank and innocent. For a moment, Dongmin looked as if he wanted to slap him and Bin sucked in an anxious breath. This could fail spectacularly.

After a tense heartbeat, the King shrugged. ‘By all means, do.’

Bin inched closer, ignoring the blood dripping from the deep gashes in Dongmin’s palms, and cut off a handful of young white blooms, the tender petals barely opened. He added them to the growing pile.

‘Would you like any other colour, Your Majesty?’

Dongmin’s eyes flickered to the centre of the garden where, in the innermost circle of roses, bloomed the late Queen’s favourites, the heavy-headed pink beauties.

Now all flowers lay on the path, the tender stems snapped, the fragrant petals stepped upon. 

Bin followed Dongmin’s gaze. ‘We shall add some of them too.’

He offered the King his arm, as if nothing was amiss, as if they were discussing a pleasant outing they soon would be indulging in.

After a short deliberation, Dongmin accepted the offered hand and stood up. Bin could barely suppress a shudder at the sight of him. The King looked liked an exhausted, old man. There was dust and dirt around the hem of his cloak and the front of his tunic was smeared with blood; his shoulders stooped.

Trying not to focus too much on the pitiful state the King was in, Bin hurried to the centre and picked up a couple of flowers off the ground that had escaped the deadly force of Dongmin’s boots.

Before the King had any chance to protest, he ran back and hefted the massive bouquet. He placed it gently into Dongmin’s arms. ‘Shall we go, Your Majesty?’

Dongmin looked at him with a blank stare that went right through without seeing anything. For once, Bin prayed - prayed like never before in his life - for the King not to drop the roses into the dust under their feet and storming off.

‘Let us go,’ whispered Dongmin, head bowed so low that he could be talking to the roses - but Bin breathed out silent thanks to the heavens.

Not acknowledging Bin’s presence, Dongmin started walking. His gait was a tad slower than usual, although for the random spectator in the streets in would be completely unnoticeable.

Bin fell into step with him, nodding shortly as they passed the gardener. The old woman, leaning against the small wooden gate leading to the herb garden, watched them with pained expression. There were tears in her eyes.

The walk through the gardens felt endless. The midday sun beating from above seemed to have washed out the colours from everything around them, from pale stones of the garden walls and white sand under their feet, to the marble statues dotted at random, half-hiding in overgrown corners.

Everything looked bleached in the blinding light.

Only the droplets of blood that Dongmin was leaving in his wake on the white sand burned dark crimson.

The ladies-in-waiting, huddling around in a shady corner, watched them walk past, all dropping into a deep bow, but Bin couldn’t help but notice the gasps and a flare of something – pity, compassion maybe – in their eyes before they cast them down quickly.

Dongmin barely acknowledged their presence, only giving a curt nod in their direction.

Spotting three familiar figures waiting for them at the main gates, Bin exhaled in relief, even if there was no logical reason for it. Leaving Citadel and venturing outside, into the cobbled streets of White City, he never felt the King was in more danger than within the palace stone walls. Nevertheless, it was reassuring to see Sanha’s tall figure looming over Minhyuk, and Hoseok’s bulging muscles.

Palace guards, after seeing the King, opened the gates without hesitation.

‘You and Sanha at the front,’ Bin looked at Minhyuk.

His second in command nodded shortly and all four of them formed a protective shield around the King without Dongmin having to break the pace.

Bin always chose the rear when walking through the city, somehow fearing the proverbial stab in the back more than an attack in plain sight. Hoseok agreed. Coming from a family with a longstanding military history, the man always requested to be given the most difficult assignments, always choosing spots that were the most dangerous.

‘In our family, it’s an honour to die for the King,’ he would say simply when teased about it. ‘I couldn’t ask for more.’

Now, feeling Hoseok’s reassuring presence next to him, Bin let his eyes roam around, watchful and alert, while Dongmin headed for the cathedral.

At first, people of White City didn’t notice Dongmin walking in their midst but the news spread quickly and soon a crowd gathered, not being able to resist catching a glimpse of the King.

Bin was watching the faces lining the streets. Most of them were simple townsfolk, going on about their daily business when they heard the rumours about the King being near. Stall owners and poor washer women, shoe makers and little merchants, they all stood in heavy silence as Dongmin walked past them, arms full of roses, his hands bloody.

The whispers that rippled through the crowd were soft. The women were wiping their eyes, the men watched with clenched jaws. Bin could hear sniffs and sobs.

A peripatetic priest, his robes plain and faded, lifted his hand in a blessing as Dongmin walked past. The old man’s eyes brimmed with tears.

When they reached the main square, if was already filling up with onlookers who got caught wind of the news and waited there. They parted in silence, making space for Minhyuk and Sanha who lead the King to the massive front door of the cathedral that loomed, tall and build of pale sandstone, over all other buildings surrounding the square.

Pausing at the door, one hand on the heavy handle, Dongmin turned.

‘I want to go alone,’ he whispered.

Bin gulped uneasily. ‘It is not safe, Your Majesty.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Dongmin’s eyes were boring into Bin’s, dry and red-rimmed. Bin knew the King hadn’t shed a single tear since the Queen’s death a week ago but yet what he saw was a picture of utter despondence.

It broke his heart.

‘As you wish, Your Majesty,’ he said at last. ‘But I do beg you, please, let my men go in first and tell people to leave so you can pray in peace.’

Dongmin nodded.

Minhyuk and Sanha pushed the heavy door open and slipped inside. A couple of moments later, a string of people started leaving the church, casting quick glances at the King before bowing low and dispersing amongst the crowd.

Dongmin watched everything, unmoving like a statue.

After the last worshipper had left, Minhyuk and Sanha emerged, leaving the door open.

‘The church is empty, Your Majesty,’ Minhyuk nodded briefly.

‘Thank you,’ whispered Dongmin.

Bin watched the pale face in front of him and thought of the scared young boy with a heavy golden crown who walked out of the same cathedral almost seven years ago, to the cheering of the masses.

The boy was now gone, in his place a man with a tired face and eyes that had seen too much.

‘Your Majesty,’ Bin prompted gently, as the King seemed to have forgotten why they came and was simply standing in front of the open door, eyes closed, cradling the roses to his chest.

‘Your Majesty.’

Dongmin didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes, but a tear started rolling down his cheek, then another. And another.

‘Thank you, Commander.’

Barely seeing through the tears, Dongmin spun on his heel and stumbled inside. The door swung shut.

Bin and his fellow guards stood sentry outside while the King prayed.

………..……………

‘Give me your hands.’

Grabbing a jug, Bin poured water into a large basin. With a washcloth, he gently cleaned King’s hands and took out several thorns.

Dongmin endured the procedure without a sound, as if he welcomed the pain, but when Bin wanted to dress the wounds, he pulled away.

‘Leave it. They are mere scratches.’

For a moment, Bin hesitated but he relented. ‘As you wish, Your Majesty.’

Dongmin looked at him, unseeing. After he had left the cathedral in the afternoon, having spent two hours inside and looking like he had cried all tears in the world, Bin could see the King was barely holding it together.

‘You should probably rest,’ he gently swiped his thumbs over the deep scratches. You haven’t slept for days.’

‘I don’t deserve to sleep.’

‘Punishing yourself will not bring the Queen back.’

‘Be quiet, Commander. I don’t want you mentioning the Queen.’

‘As you wish, Your Majesty,’ whispered Bin softly and stood up. Leaving the basin on the table, he quietly moved to the door, watching Dongmin to climb into bed and pulling the covers over his head.

……………………

The King jerked awake with a gasp. He sat up slowly, a thin sheen of sweat dampening his forehead. He looked too small in the middle of the massive bed, amidst the tangle of sheets and pillows.

‘Your Majesty?’

Dongmin ignored the concern in Bin’s voice. He scooted to the edge of the bed, carefully lowered his feet on the floor. Ran shaking fingers through his hair.

‘Your Majesty?’

‘I don’t want to be called that. Not tonight.’

‘Dongmin.’

The name felt alien on Bin’s lips; he felt it didn’t belong. He watched Dongmin, looking eerie in the moonlight spilling into the room through the narrow window.

‘I feel so alone, Binnie. I used to think I knew what it meant – loneliness – but I was foolish. Now, now I am truly alone.’

Bin felt like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, quartered and hung out to dry.

‘You are not alone.’

He crossed the room – the invisible divide – and stood in front of the Dongmin, hesitant, the palm of his right hand sweaty on the hilt of his sword.

‘You are not alone, Your Ma-, Dongmin. I am here.’

The King looked up, then slowly placed his hands on Bin’s hips. Bin’s knees hit the edge of the bed as he brought him closer, between his legs. 

‘Are you, Binnie? Are you really here?’

Dongmin’s head leaned forward. He buried his forehead in the chainmail on Bin’s stomach.

‘I need you.’

With a shaking hand, Bin ran his fingers through Dongmin’s hair.

‘I know. I’m here, my King.’

‘I am alone now, Binnie. I am really, truly alone.’

Bin pulled back a little, tilted Dongmin’s face upwards.

‘You are not alone. You have three beautiful sons who love you more than anything. And you have a wee little girl now too.’

‘I don’t want to hear her name mentioned. Because of her, the Queen is dead,’ whispered Dongmin harshly.

‘No. Don’t say such words, my King. You loved your Queen; it would pain her to hear that you don’t want to see your daughter. For her sake, you will now love your girl the way you used to love her mother.’

‘I didn’t love her, Binnie! Have I already told you that?’ Dongmin sprung up, face twisted in anger.

He leaned closer, so close their noses almost touched.

‘Should I tell you what my greatest sin is, Binnie? Because I am a sinner – oh, my soul is darker that you can imagine. Do you want to hear? Do you?’

‘We are all sinners, Your Majesty,’ sighed Bin. 

‘Oh, but you don’t see, Binnie. This – what happened – is God’s punishment for my sins. I killed my wife! She died because of me!’

‘No, Your Majesty. The Queen died after she bore you a daughter. Things like that happen to mothers; you didn’t kill her.’

‘Shush, Binnie. You do not understand.’

Dongmin lowered his voice and Bin instinctively stepped back; the self-hatred seeping from King’s every word chilling him to the core.

‘Every time I used to visit my wife in her chamber,’ Dongmin leaned closer and whispered into his ear, ‘do you know what I used to do?’

Dongmin’s breath was hot on his skin. ‘Every night, I pictured your face, Binnie.’

Bin swallowed down tears that prickled in his eyes. Stumped down the scorching flame in his gut.

‘Stop. Dongmin, stop.’

King’s eyes glistened with wetness. ‘I sired my children closing my eyes and picturing you in my bed.’

‘Don’t. Please.’

‘I fucked my wife dreaming it was you instead!’

His hand flew.

Dongmin gasped and held his cheek.

‘Stop talking, Dongmin,’ Bin whispered, voice dark.

Furious, Dongmin’s face burned white in the darkened room. ‘How dare you?’

‘What now, my King?’ Bin couldn’t help but snort derisively. ‘Are you going to have me flogged again? Is this yet another game of yours? You, telling me all your secrets, wanting to be friends when it suits you - then being the King again, when things get too dangerous?’

An imprint of Bin’s hand glowed angrily on Dongmin’s cheek but the King’s anger seemed to have evaporated.

‘It’s not like that, Binnie, I swear,’ he sighed.

The words hung heavy in the humid air. There was not enough of breeze that night which would bring coolness into the bedchamber and soothe Bin’s flaming cheeks; he felt as if he had been slapped by the King, not the other way round.

‘I want you so much, Binnie,’ Dongmin’s voice grew unsteady. ‘I want to be with you. I know I have promised to wait until you are ready – and I shall not say a word, shall not ask that of you – but my thoughts, Binnie. My thoughts are stronger than me. Do you think God is punishing me for them? By letting my wife, the mother of my children, die? Did she die because of my sinful thoughts?’

‘No, Dongmin,’ Bin sighed wearily. ‘God doesn’t care about what people think. And you shouldn’t either. It’s the deeds that matter.’

He pushed Dongmin towards the bed.

‘Come to bed, my King. You need to go back to sleep.’

Dongmin clutched at his sleeve. ‘Please, forgive me, Binnie.’

Bin peeled off the covers on the bed and gently pushed Dongmin’s shoulders towards it. The King went easily, as if he had depleted the last reserves of his strength.

‘Forgive what, Your Majesty?’

Dongmin curled up in a ball but gripped Bin’s hand tightly. ‘That I flogged you back then. Two years ago. Will you ever forgive me?’

With one hand, Bin pulled the covers over Dongmin’s shoulders. ‘I forgave you a long time ago.’

‘I don’t deserve you, Binnie.’

‘Maybe not,’ smiled Bin gently. ‘But I love you and I am here.’

Dongmin’s fingers were clinging to his hand, not letting go. ‘I took everything away from you, Binnie. Your home, your right to love someone freely. Your right to have a family.’

‘And yet, here I am.’

‘Why? Why are you still here? You followed me to White City all those years ago, you threw your life away for me – for what?’

‘To be with you.’

Dongmin pressed Bin’s palm against his cheek. ‘I love you so much, Binnie. You helped me to bear this life.’

Bin sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I didn’t do anything, Your Maje-, Dongmin.’

‘But you did, Binnie. You might not know it – but you did.’

‘How?’

‘Every time I had a decision to make, I asked myself – what would Bin do? And sometimes I simply asked you.’

Bin remembered all the late nights in the King’s bedchamber when Dongmin used to sit cross-legged on the bed and talk about his day. Bin, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall, the sword across his knees, would listen to the King’s conundrums about the budget, to his worries about unrest in the northern provinces and political intrigues of the court.

Often, Dongmin would simply muse, letting his thoughts flow, not expecting a reply. At other times, he would surprise Bin with a question out of the blue – do you think I should allow a new monastery in one of the provinces, they might be useful in helping poor and sick, or would they just exploit the trusting townsfolk?

Sometimes, Bin would blush – I’m a mere peasant, Your Majesty, not a scholar – but Dongmin would smile, that’s precisely why I’m asking you, Binnie, you have the common sense my courtiers often lack; you know how ordinary people think.

‘You helped me more than you know, Binnie.’

Dongmin turned his head and kissed Bin’s fingertips lightly. ‘I want to be worthy of you. I want to be a good King.’

‘You are, Dongmin. You are working hard – and you have changed a lot from the scared young King you were seven years ago.’

Dongmin’s smile was wistful. ‘I hardly remember my coronation, I was so terrified. I wasn’t ready at all.’

‘It was not your fault that His Majesty, your Father, didn’t think of…’ Bin trailed off, unsure how to phrase the almost heretical thought.

‘Oh, you can say it out loud – Father thought himself almost immortal. Or at least with many summers ahead of him, and certainly not foreseeing that a wound acquired in a hunt gone wrong would bring forth his death so swiftly. And for sure not seeing me as a son he should be proud of, his future successor.’

Bin’s heart ached. ‘Your late Father was proud of you, I _am_ sure of that.’

Dongmin smiled bitterly. ‘Please, don’t. The only time I pleased him was when I got married. It meant the beginning of a useful alliance with our southern neighbours. I was a political asset to him, nothing more. He thought me too pretty, too weak.’

Bin stilled. Dongmin’s words sounded only too similar to the whispers he had been hearing in the tense days after King Hwang’s death seven summers back.

………………………..

_He is too young, he looks like a girl, the nobility scoffed when looking at Dongmin’s white, pinched face at his father’s funeral; he is not fit to fill his father’s shoes; he seems weak._

_During the coronation, curious massed assembled in front of the cathedral in the main square, waiting to catch a glimpse of the new King._

_Bin felt for him, the boy who despite his height looked like the heavy crown was weighing him down and who waved shyly at the gathered crowd._

_According to an old tradition, the newly crowned King, together with his young wife, rode the short distance from the cathedral to the Citadel, to be welcomed by Dongmin’s Mother, the Dowager Queen, who would then ceremoniously pass the keys to the Citadel to her son._

_Bin had watched Dongmin mounting his horse in front of the cheering crowd, taking in his tense face and hands that were clutching the reins as if Dongmin’s life depended on it._

_The Queen, sitting on a beautiful dapple-grey palfrey and waiting for Dongmin to say the last words to several members of clergy assembled on the church steps, was nearly as white as her husband. Her stomach, heavy with child, was shrouded in a long fur cape but many women in the crowd spotted the signs and their eyes misted at the sight of new hope. The late King’s soul had left this world, they said, but God had blessed us with this new life. Good times are coming._

_……………………….._

‘Am I a better man now, Binnie?’

‘You are, my King.’

Bin could say that with a clear conscience. Dongmin grew calmer and wiser, without losing his sense of justice – and simple folk loved him. The young King became almost a mystical figure, randomly appearing between stalls on market days, dressed in simple clothes and flanked on both sides by two guards, chatting to women selling chunky blocks of cheese, or to farmers who came from nearby villages to trade their livestock.

Noble blood in White City, however, had a starkly different view on the matter of King Hwang’s successor.

Their love for Dongmin, even after seven years of his reign, didn’t grow much. The young King had proved himself in many ways – no one was calling him weak anymore – but Dongmin’s insistence on sending a lot more money to distant provinces, his reluctance to hold lavish banquets, and his love for everything foreign and exotic didn’t endear him in the eyes of the wealthy and powerful in the capital.

If he wasn’t the King, the rich and richer whispered during dinners in their ornate villas, nobody would speak to him. He has no manners at all; doesn’t know how to appreciate his friends and allies. He is nothing like his late father, God bless his soul. Listens to commoners all the time, how scandalous. Thank God, his wife is there to grace the court with her presence; she deserved better, that’s for sure. Maybe she should have waited for King’s younger brother, maybe Prince Donghwi should have become the King; he is a lot more like his late father.

Bin’s heart grew heavy every time he caught the end of such poisonous rumours.

‘You are a good man, my King,’ he repeated, reminding himself that for every nobleman who detested Dongmin there were dozens of grateful subjects across the country who remembered their beloved King in their daily prayers.

Dongmin’s face softened in gratitude. ‘All because of you. I made a promise after I whipped you – a promise that I would never make a decision with my eyes blinded by anger and fear. That I would think before I act, that I would never let my temper get the better of me.’

‘You are a good man, Dongmin,’ Bin took Dongmin’s hand. ‘You should be proud of yourself. No matter what the rich and noble say you are becoming a wise ruler.’

‘Are you saying I am not wise yet?’

There was a trace of smile in Dongmin’s voice, something Bin thought he would never hear again.

‘We should always strive to better ourselves, Your Majesty,’ he smiled back.

‘And you always have a pearl of wisdom at the ready, Commander.’ Dongmin sighed and rubbed his face into Bin’s palm, his lips hot against the calloused skin.

Bin, perched on the bed, stiffened a little and tried to free his hand but Dongmin didn’t let go.

‘Binnie.’

The word was barely more than a soft groan but it made Bin’s skin prickle with goosebumps.

‘Don’t,’ he whispered, gently pulling his hand away. ‘I know I had said that one day, when I deem you worthy… But I can’t. Not because… not because I think you unworthy…’

He stood up, terrified of the closeness, of the lack of distance between them.

‘I want you so much, Dongmin,’ he whispered, stumbling back. ‘But I’m scared of what being with you would do to us. I am terrified that it would destroy my ability to protect you; I fear it would cloud your judgement. I fear that we would somehow give our secret away. You would pay with your life for that.’

Dongmin sat up in the bed, frowning. ‘But you would too, Binnie.’

‘My life is unimportant, Dongmin,’ he shook his head. ‘But you – you can do a lot of good as a King. You mustn’t die because of me.’

‘We would be careful, Binnie.’

‘Please, don’t,’ he pressed his back against the door, welcoming the solidity, the sturdiness. ‘We have managed so far; let me be to you what I have always been, your friend and protector.’

‘I can’t. I can’t anymore. I know it must sound horrible; the Queen’s body has barely grown cold and here I am, lusting after you – but I don’t know what to do, Binnie. I want you.’

‘Perhaps you should marry again, my King. If you can't be without… you know,’ he trailed off, feeling his ears burning.

‘Binnie!’ Dongmin nearly jumped. ‘Don’t talk such nonsense! Ever!’

‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ began Bin but Dongmin silenced him with a stern look.

‘I shall not breathe another word about me wanting you, Binnie, I promise, but you will never mention marriage again. I have you know I shall never marry again. Never. Do you understand me?’

Bin gulped, ‘I understand.’

Dongmin sank back into the pillows. ‘I’m so tired, Binnie. So tired of this life. I don’t want to live anymore,’ he mumbled, staring at the ceiling.

‘And yet you must, Your Majesty.’

Bin reluctantly approached the bed again and sat down. He took Dongmin’s hand between his palms. ‘I tell you what you need to do. You are going to cry first; you’ve just lost your wife. Here, alone; nobody will see you – like before, in the church. Tomorrow you shall go and find your daughter. You shall hold her in your arms and tell her you love her. Then you’ll go and comfort your boys. The day after tomorrow, you shall do it again. And again. You shall keep telling your children you love them, until they smile. You are everything they have left now. It is your duty to live for them.’

Dongmin buried his head in the pillow and started sobbing. Bin held his hand, not moving, until his sobs died down and his eyes started drooping.

The morning found him curled up at the foot of the King’s bed.

…………………………….

**Year 71 of the House of Lee. The Month of Harvest.**

‘Commander Binnie, Commander Binnie! One more round!’

The little girl swiped at Bin with a wooden stick, her feathery black hair flying. Bin laughed out loud, taking in her rosy cheeks and the sweat pearling at her forehead.

‘I think we should go now, Princess. We need to find the Nurse.’

‘Sohye! Commander Moon! What are you two doing here?’

Appearing from around the corner, Dongmin frowned in confusion at the sight of his youngest daughter in the middle of one of the palace manicured lawns, skirts in disarray and wielding a long stick like a sword.

‘Commander Binnie and I are sparring! I will defeat him soon!’

‘Where is Nurse?’ Dongmin looked sternly at the child.

‘She went away. She said she was dip- dispi- disappearing?’

Sohye’s pink tongue peeked out as she frowned in concentration, trying to remember the unfamiliar word.

‘She said she was despairing,’ Bin supplied, a cheeky grin on his face.

‘Oh, heavens,’ Dongmin rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s go and find her. Sparring is over.’

‘But, Father, I am really good!’

‘I saw,’ Dongmin smiled gently. ‘But I think it wasn’t very nice of you to leave Nurse alone. I imagine she must be rather sad.’

‘She said her legs were hurting,’ Sohye nodded gravely. ‘And wanted us to sit by the pond and feed the fish. I said I didn’t want to. It’s boring.’

‘I was on my way to the compound,’ Bin’s eyes were laughing. ‘From the frown on Nurse’s face I could see Her Royal Highness was testing the good woman’s patience – so I offered to keep the Princess company for a bit and let the Nurse sit down and rest her feet. We had fun, didn’t we?’

He winked at Sohye, who grinned back enthusiastically.

Dongmin watched them both and couldn’t help but smile. There were meetings to be attended and quarrels to mediate every day – but the shine in his daughter’s and Bin’s eyes warmed his heart.

He took Sohye’s hand. ‘I think we need to go and find Nurse.’

Sohye’s dark eyes flashed. ‘But I want to fight with Commander Binnie.’

‘We need to find Nurse first,’ repeated Dongmin more firmly.

‘But…’

‘You are done talking, my daughter,’ Dongmin silenced the girl calmly and Bin watched as the young Princess frowned and looked down angrily but remained silent.

Hand in hand, they walked slowly towards the centre of the vast lawn where a tiny garden was hidden from view behind beautifully clipped, dense hedges. They passed through a narrow opening, stepping into an oasis of calm, with small shrubs and unassuming wild flowers lining the perimeter and a little pond in the middle, its surface rippling gently.

The Nurse was sitting on a stone bench next to the pond, throwing small pieces of bread into the water. At the sight of Dongmin, she scrambled to her feet as best as she could.

‘Sit,’ Dongmin waved his hand before she could bow down low. ‘I need to speak to you.’

He lowered himself on the bench next to her, pulling Sohye to sit on his knee.

The old woman squirmed uneasily as Dongmin didn’t see to be in a hurry to break the silence.

‘If it is about Her Highness, please do forgive me, Your Majesty, for not looking after her better,’ the Nurse’s voice trembled a little. ‘I know Princess Sohye is six years old now and we should be mindful of what company she keeps. It is my fault, Your Majesty…’

Bin in the background tried not to let the words stab him too hard. The animosity of the old woman towards him was an open secret by now, known to everyone.

‘Are you saying that Commander Moon is not the right company for my daughter?’ Dongmin interrupted her smoothly.

The Nurse shrank under his direct gaze.

‘No, of course not, Your Majesty,’ her voice faltered. ‘I wouldn’t dare to…’

‘I’m glad you wouldn’t,’ Dongmin interjected briskly. ‘Commander Moon is one of my most valued men. I trust him with my life.’

‘Of course he is, Your Majesty, of course he is. But we have to consider that Her Royal Highness Princess Sohye is older now and needs to learn how to behave like a lady – in the right company. Company of people of noble blood.’

Bin knew Dongmin too well to miss the way the King’s lips twitched the tiniest bit.

‘I know Commander Moon is not of noble descent – but, equally, I don’t remember you having a single drop of noble blood in your veins.’

The old woman gasped. Bin quickly looked down, unable to hide a small smile of satisfaction.

Dongmin looked straight ahead, watching the fish leaping out of the water, breaking its smooth surface.

‘You see, Nurse, you told me yourself that your late father, God bless his soul, was a fisherman,’ he continued in a controlled, even voice. ‘And yet, you served my Father and me for years and I entrust my children into your care every day.’

‘Thank you, Your Majesty. It is and honour to serve you and your family.’

Dongmin squeezed Sohye’s narrow shoulders a little, pulling the girl close to him. His smile grew colder.

‘From now on, I do not wish to hear any snide remarks about Commander Moon’s descent, his manners or skills. I came to inform you that starting from tomorrow, Sohye will spend one afternoon a week with him, learning the art of sword fighting. I do not see why she should not be taught how to defend herself, only because she is a girl,’ he silenced the old woman’s protest, already clear on her face. ‘Many people die by sword, even those who do not know how to wield it – she should not be at a disadvantage.’

‘Father!’ Sohye squealed on his lap. ‘Will I get a real sword?’

Dongmin chuckled and looked up at Bin. ‘You will need to ask Commander Moon what he thinks. He will be your teacher – if he thinks you a worthy pupil, that is.’

Bin held Dongmin’s eyes and felt the warmth in them. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. It will be an honour to teach Her Highness Princess Sohye how to fight.’

‘Commander Binnie! Commander Binnie! Can I get a real sword, please?’

‘It’s Commander Moon,’ mumbled the Nurse. ‘I wonder where she gets it. Speak properly, child.’

For a brief moment, the two men exchanged a glance over the child’s head and Bin felt himself breaking in cold sweat.

_Has the King called me Binnie in front of Sohye at some point?_

He cleared his throat a little stiffly. ‘I offer my apologies. I must have told her Royal Highness how my mother used to call me when I was a little boy,’ he improvised hastily.

He turned to the child and smiled his brightest smile. ‘I think we need to ask His Majesty, your Father, what day our first lesson should be.’

Sohye, Bin’s name mercifully forgotten, bounced on Dongmin’s lap. ‘Tomorrow, Father, please!’

Dongmin - the art of diplomacy honed to perfection by now, noticed Bin with pride – leaned over to the Nurse. ‘Would the Princess be free tomorrow afternoon?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon the Princess will be accompanying Your Majesty when visiting father Yoo. You said her presence should lend you strength and patience; that you can't swear in front of a child.’

Nurse’s voice was sarcastic, almost revelling in her position to be able to talk to the King without formalities.

‘Oh, yes. I forgot about that,’ said Dongmin gloomily. ‘Nothing to be done about that. The day after tomorrow then.’

He looked at his daughter solemnly. ‘The day after tomorrow you shall begin your training. I trust you will not disappoint me. The Commander will report on your progress.’

‘Yes!’

Sohye leapt off Dongmin’s lap and ran over to Bin. She hugged his knees. ‘I will be your best pupil, Commander Binnie! You’ll see!’

Bin gulped down a lump in his throat and stroked the girl’s wispy hair. ‘I am assured you will be, Your Highness.’

……………………..

The stifling air grew slightly balmier after the sun had dipped behind the horizon but the King’s bedchamber had yet to feel to cooling breeze that was beginning to whisper in the trees under his window.

Dongmin opened the shutters with a contented hum.

Bin watched King’s relaxed face, the way he spun on his heel, looking younger than he did for months. ‘You look happy, Your Majesty.’

Dongmin laughed a little surprised as he started peeling off his summer cloak. ‘Why, yes. I think I am, you know. It was a good day. Chancellor Park and Father Yoo didn’t gauge each other’s eyes out during tonight’s council meeting, which is a success. I’m proud of myself; I think I’m getting rather skilled at keeping them apart. I think father Yoo and me agreed on many things tonight; he is a decent man.’

Bin frowned. ‘Why do you favour the Bishop? I never thought you would be the one defending the Church.’

Dongmin threw his cloak on the bed. ‘My late wife showed me they are good priests and not so good priests in the Church, Binnie.’

He started untying his tunic. ‘Bishop Yoo belongs to the former. His only problem at the moment is his conviction that the hospital for poor he is building should be everybody’s priority. Chancellor Park, on the other hand, thinks the North is unsettled and we should send enforcements to the province to show our presence, not to build hospitals for plebs.’

‘And what do you think, Your Majesty?’ Bin tried to ignore a strip of skin, golden and smooth, in the deep slit of Dongmin’s shirt under his open tunic.

‘I think the North is indeed unsettled - as it notoriously has been for the last thirty odd years – and the peace is hanging by a thread. In the last war the North had stood loyally by my Father’s side and their resources had been depleted the most – but he never fully showed his appreciation for their sacrifice.’

Dongmin ran a tired hand through his hair. ‘I don’t think more troops will do the trick. That is the reason why for the last ten years I had been pouring much more money into the provinces than Father ever did – especially the North. People mustn’t feel they have been forgotten, that we in White City are disconnected from what’s going on in their lives. In most regions it worked – but the North has never quite forgotten how little thanks they received after the victory.’

‘It also doesn’t help that the North is poorer compared with the rest of the country,’ Bin added quietly.

‘I know, Binnie,’ Dongmin threw him a sideways look. ‘I remember. The harvests up there are always on the edge of being a disaster – the mountainous regions are harsh, much harder to live in than here. But you know all about it, I don’t need to hold a sermon for you about the freezing winters, when the whole deer families are found frozen dead in the snow drifts, when _people_ die from the cold.’

Dongmin sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. ‘Pray tell, how did we end up talking about this? I had a good day today; you said I looked happy,’ he laughed a bit incredulously.

‘I am sorry, Your Majesty,’ whispered Bin. 

‘Don’t apologise, Binnie,’ smiled Dongmin. ‘The King should never forget the less fortunate. It’s good to be reminded. And yet, today was a good day. I have spent a beautiful summer day in the splendour of my palace, eating my favourite dishes and sipping chilled wine, listening to my ministers bickering and -‘ his eyes suddenly bore into Bin, ‘watching my most trusted Commander teaching my little girl how to fence. I should count my blessings.’

Bin felt his face heating up. ‘Are you happy, my King?’

‘I am happy,’ smiled Dongmin. ‘Why are you asking?’

‘I just wanted to know. You look different,’ Bin shrugged, smiling softly back. ‘You have been laughing more lately.’

‘Have I?’ Dongmin’s eyes were not leaving his. ‘I don’t know why. I feel… light. Does it sound foolish?’

Something was crumbling inside Bin, an avalanche that was difficult to stop.

‘No, Your Majesty, it doesn’t sound foolish at all,’ he whispered. ‘Happiness becomes you. You look beautiful when you laugh.’

Dongmin stilled.

‘Binnie.’

Bin found he couldn’t stop - now that something deep inside his soul was ripped open.

‘My King.’

Dongmin was watching him, blinking slowly, as if awaking from a dream.

Bin slid his sword out of the sheath and walked to the door. Slowly, he checked whether it was locked, then secured the latch above the lock. He slotted the sword into the latch. He rammed the blade in, making sure it couldn’t be moved. 

He turned to Dongmin. ‘You are safe, my King. Nobody can open the door now.’

He took off his belt and tossed it aside.

Dongmin gasped, a small, shuddery sound.

Bin pulled the chainmail over his head and let it drop to the floor. ‘A very long time ago, I promised you something, Your Majesty.’

He stopped in front Dongmin who was still sitting on the bed, looking small and on the verge of tears.

‘You can send me away, Your Majesty,’ whispered Bin. ‘Say one word and I shall go and we will never speak of this again.’

Silent tears spilled down Dongmin’s cheeks. He grabbed Bin’s hips and brought him closer, buried his face into the fabric of Bin’s tunic.

Hesitantly, Bin slid his fingers through Dongmin’s hair. ‘Please, don’t cry, Your Majesty.’

Dongmin sobbed harder. He slid down to kneel in front of Bin, clinging to him like a lifeline.

‘Don’t cry. Dongmin. Please.’ Bin stroked Dongmin’s heaving shoulders. ‘I am here. Don’t cry.’

With shaking hands, Dongmin tugged at the sleeves of his tunic and Bin followed the wordless plea and sunk down to his knees.

Dongmin’s arms around his neck were those of a drowning man. 

‘I am here.’

Later, they could never remember who moved first. Who was the one to kiss first, whose hands found the other’s face faster.

Lips on lips, intertwined fingers.

Skin on skin.

………………………………

The first thrush barely began to sing when Bin stirred, a feeling of being watched jolting him awake.

He stretched, confused for a moment. The bed was soft, the covers too smooth against his bare skin.

Next to him, Dongmin was propped on his elbow, looking at him intently.

‘Why are you not asleep, my King?’

‘I can't sleep,’ Dongmin shrugged with a smile. ‘I keep waking up, thinking it was all a dream.’

Bin reached under the sheets, palm tracing the curve of Dongmin’s hip. ‘I am not a dream.’

Dongmin laughed. There was a new note to his voice, something that had been missing there before, languid and satisfied. ‘Indeed you are not. You felt very real last night. Very, very real.’

Heat crept up Bin’s face. ‘Don’t say such things.’

‘I will be saying more and you will like it. I have waited my whole life to be able to whisper into your ear how good your skin felt under my hands last night.’

Bin blushed and pulled his hand away. ‘Stop.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not used to it.’

‘You’re not used to someone telling you how beautiful you are.’

‘It’s you who is beautiful, my King.’

‘Don’t call me that when we are in bed together.’

Bin watched Dongmin’s face, trying to commit every bit of it into his memory. ‘But I like the sound of it. You _are_ my King. You are _my_ King. You are _mine_.’

It was Dongmin’s turn to redden.

‘I am yours, Binnie.’

Bin sank back into the pillows and pulled Dongmin onto his chest. ‘I should have done this a long time ago,’ he whispered into his hair.

‘No,’ Dongmin looked up, absentmindedly trailing his fingers up and down Bin’s chest. ‘You were right. It wouldn’t have been the honourable thing to do. I was married – and maybe I didn’t love the Queen the way I’ve always loved you – but I promised.’

‘But it’s been six years since the Queen – God bless her soul – passed away. We could have gotten together much sooner – had I not been a coward,’ groaned Bin.

‘It’s no matter, Binnie. We are here now. And you are still right; it’s dangerous, we need to be careful.’

‘We must be,’ Bin gripped Dongmin’s shoulders, feeling the chill of fear.

As if reading the dark thoughts in Bin’s head and trying to lighten up the mood, Dongmin chuckled, ‘I promise I will be quieter the next time round.’

Bin’s cheeks burnt. ‘Was I too rough? I’m not very… experienced.’

Dongmin’s breathy laugh warmed his chest. ‘You were so adoringly clumsy – but you are a fast learner.’

‘Stop laughing at me!’ Bin moaned. ‘I feel bad! You must tell me the truth – was I hurting you?’

‘No,’ Dongmin shook his head softly. ‘The beginning was a little… uncomfortable but you didn’t hurt me.’

Bin ran his palm up and down Dongmin’s spine. ‘I still don’t understand. I thought you would be the one who would want to…’

‘I know this will sound odd… but I didn’t want that,’ Dongmin buried his face in the crook of Bin’s neck, the words laced with shyness. ‘You have given up so much for me already. Last night I wanted you… to take. Does it sound strange?’

‘No,’ Bin pressed a kiss into Dongmin’s hair, throat constricting with something suspiciously close to tears. ‘Thank you.’

A comfortable silence settled in the room. They must have dozed off because when Bin opened his eyes again, the light outside changed from the greys of pre-dawn into the muted golden pink of a summer morning.

He sighed and tried to slip from underneath Dongmin without waking him – but failed miserably.

Although looking bleary with sleep, the King reached out and stopped him. ‘Please, don’t go yet.’

He leaned back and mouthed at the bare skin of Dongmin’s shoulder. ‘I need to.’

‘One more kiss.’ Dongmin’s arm slid around his waist and held him tight.

Smiling, he tangled his fingers in the long dark hair spilled over the pillow. ‘Didn’t you have enough last night?’

‘I shall never have enough, Binnie,’ Dongmin pulled him closer. ‘You are all I need in my life.’

‘And you are my everything, my King.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Chapter warning** : a major character death
> 
> If you feel you could be triggered by this do not read, although - just to reassure you - it happens towards the end of the chapter, it is not unexpected and you will pretty much see when it is coming.
> 
> This took me much longer than I expected - thank you for your patience and love <333

**Year 81 of the House of Lee. The Month of Red Skies.**

The inner courtyard filled with sounds of hooves and loud voices. Ricocheting of the stone walls and rising in the air, they reached all the way up to the uppermost windows of the Citadel.

In his study, Dongmin pushed the thick housekeeping books aside. The wedding preparations could wait for a couple of hours.

He threw Chancellor Park an apologetic smile. ‘I think we will leave this for now. I shall summon you later, perhaps this afternoon.’

Park Jinwoo was a wise man and closed the tomes without protest. He, too, heard what was unmistakably the sound of Princess Sohye returning from her first diplomatic visit.

Despite being only sixteen, the King’s youngest child had been showing keen interest in politics for some time and although such pastime for a noble lady was generally frowned upon in the inner court circles, Dongmin encouraged his daughter to take it seriously.

Sohye’s first diplomatic task - a wedding in one of the Northern provinces - was innocent enough not to provoke too big an outrage amongst the ministers about a ‘woman meddling in men’s affairs’ but the Princess could hardly conceal her excitement when Dongmin had assigned her with her first mission.

She was grinning from ear to ear as he summoned her the night before her leaving.

‘This shall not be a journey for your pleasure, Sohye. I know you like High Castle and visiting North – but I need you to take this seriously. It is a wedding of two of the most noble Northern families. I can't be there myself, not right before your brother’s wedding, but it is important that the House of Lee is represented amongst the guests. Maybe the late King Hwan, my father, didn’t see the need to celebrate the important occasions with the people of the North – but I think it matters. They need to see we value them. I trust you will not disappoint me.’

‘You can depend on me, Father.’

Dongmin smiled at the young, eager face. ‘I believe in you. When in doubt, hold your tongue and count to ten.’

Sohye giggled and Dongmin watched his favourite child with an aching heart. The next month will be a very long one.

He sighed. ‘I have thought long and hard and I’m sending Commander Moon to be the head of your escort. I trust him the most.’

Sohye squealed. ‘Commander Binnie! But that is splendid, Father! We will have so much fun!’

‘Please, don’t forget why are you going. And no poking fun at random young men while you are there. Maybe sending the Commander is not such a wise idea after all. He will only further your silly ideas; I can see that already.’

‘Oh, Father, pleeease! Let him come!’

At sixteen, Sohye was a striking girl. The Princess inherited his father’s height and his honey-dripping voice, and her late mother’s piercing blue eyes. Being young and stubborn, what she lacked in finesse, she made up in charisma and raw charm, not spoiled yet by too much artifice.

Despite spending more time on horseback than sitting in her chambers doing fine embroidery, there was no lack of suitors, who followed Sohye on hunting trips and were asking her for a dance at every ball she attended.

Countless self-proclaimed troubadours composed songs praising the grace of her long neck and her sparkling eyes. Dozens of sonnets arrived to her chambers every month, written on beautiful, expensive scrolls, dedicated to the beauty of her waist-long ebony hair.

Sohye, if ever confronted with the author, rewarded him with a stiff bow and a shy half-smile, polite enough not to be accused of being rude, but never quite reaching her eyes.

She never rejected any of the poems though, earning herself a reputation as a girl who is kind to all unfortunate young men who fell in love with her.

‘She is a good soul,’ whispered the ladies-in-waiting every time Sohye smiled at another young Duke or an affluent merchant who had dared to thrust their piece of writing into her hands. ‘She might have no manners – the King, bless his soul, spoils her rotten – but she has a kind heart.’

Dongmin knew better. All the poems - so painstakingly written, all the hopeless, lovesick accolades to Sohye’s charms – after being read once, ended up in a leather pouch tied to her belt.

Every once in a while, when Sohye had enough of the stiff court etiquette, she would sneak out and visit Commander Moon in the Royal Guards’ compound.

Sitting outside by the campfire, the Princess would wheel out the latest sonnets and read them out to Bin, wheezing with laughter.

‘Your Highness,’ Bin reproached her mildly. ‘You should not make fun of those poor young men. They simply fell in love with your beauty.’

It made Sohye laugh harder.

For a long time, Dongmin had no idea about his daughter’s poetry-reading sessions, until he surprised the Guard with an unscheduled inspection.

The sight of his youngest, sitting next to Bin in the courtyard and killing herself laughing, threw him off-kilter.

‘What are you doing here, child?’

‘Ah, Father!’ Sohye exclaimed eagerly. ‘Come and join us! I am indulging in a little bit of poetry and making Commander Moon suffer through it.’

Not suspecting anything, Dongmin accepted the invitation with a sigh.

‘Let’s hear it then.’

Sohye sprung up and started reciting a particularly long composition. Her voice adopted a slightly nasal quality, exaggerating every vowel, and Dongmin - to his horror - couldn’t supress a laugh as he instantly recognised the owner of the voice and the author of the verses, the Royal scribe.

When Sohye finished and bowed with an exaggerated flourish, Dongmin schooled his face into a somewhat more dignified expression than both Bin and his daughter wore and cast them a stern look.

‘Do you do this often?’

‘Every time I have enough new material,’ nodded Sohye cheerfully and Bin’s mouth twitched.

‘Don’t you think it a little unkind?’ Dongmin fought very hard not to laugh. ‘You barely know these men. What if one of them is your future husband? Should you be ridiculing him in such a manner, my daughter?’

‘Oh, Father!’ Sohye exclaimed in faux indignation. ‘Don’t be such a spoilsport! This amuses me – and so far, none of my admirers felt like they could capture my heart, so no loss. They are such a boring bunch! I would rather they discussed the latest diplomatic scandal in the East with me – have you heard that the Emperor’s third wife has run away with the minister for agriculture? Right before his eldest daughter’s wedding! Why can't we talk about that? That’s much more interesting than reading about my glistening orbs and luscious locks.’

Next to her, Bin snorted and Dongmin threw him an unimpressed look. ‘I would have expected more from you, Commander. My daughter needs to be more respectful and you shouldn’t have fostered this foolishness.’

‘I have plenty of respect for men who deserve it, Father,’ Sohye’s eyes darkened. ‘Chancellor Park, for instance. Now _that_ is a man whom I would gladly give my heart to. Well-spoken, well-read, intelligent. Doesn’t suffer fools gladly. Every time we talk, I feel I’m learning something. Chancellor Park can have my body and soul anytime.’

‘Park Jinwoo will have neither,’ Dongmin interrupted her firmly while Bin didn’t even pretend not to laugh anymore. ‘He might be intelligent and my trusted adviser – but he is also a good thirty years older than you. And married. With three daughters.’

‘What a shame he doesn’t have a son,’ Sohye sighed dreamily. ‘I would marry him just to get access to his father. We would visit as his beloved, dutiful children and I would have interesting discussions with my father-in-law on religion and politics.’

‘Marriage is not only about interesting discussions, my child.’

………………………….……….

Thinking about Sohye’s untamed spirit and sharp wit while hurrying through the long corridors of Citadel, Dongmin prayed that the wedding went smoothly. He fervently hoped his youngest child didn’t offend any of the white-haired nobles of the North, whose opinion on women and politics was that fine ladies of blue blood should be gracing the dining table, please their husbands in bed - and the only politics they should be interested in is the kind that involves arguments of the housekeeper and the cook.

The courtyard, when he emerged from the shadow of the balustrade, was bathed in the crisp light of an early autumn morning. His daughter was dismounting her horse, looking tired but pleased with herself.

‘Sohye, my child,’ Dongmin spread his arms wide and Sohye, after sinking into a bow, flew into his embrace.

He kissed her hair and hugged her close. ‘How come you are back already? Were you riding through the night?’

‘Yes, we were,’ Sohye grinned smugly. ‘I wanted to get back home quickly.’

Dongmin pressed he closer to his chest. ‘That was very unwise! The roads are dangerous at night! You should have stopped at the Redhill Monastery. They always expect us when we travel back from High Castle.’

‘We did stop there last night, Father, but only for a couple of hours to rest the horses. I explained that I was summoned back because there was a message that the Cloud Emperor and his court would be arriving sooner.’

‘But that’s a lie, my child,’ Dongmin frowned a little.

‘Well, it worked,’ Sohye shrugged but her eyes were shining with mischief. ‘Everyone is terribly excited about Suhun’s wedding; I can use it as an excuse for absolutely everything.’

‘The Princess was rather insistent yesterday; I was powerless.’

Over the girl’s head, Bin smiled at him and Dongmin’s face grew hot.

‘Commander,’ he inclined his head. ‘My heartfelt thanks for keeping my daughter safe and well this last month. Although I am not very pleased that yesterday you decided to ride overnight without rest.’

‘Princess Sohye has perfected the art of being rather persuasive during those past weeks. As I have said, I was powerless.’

Bin’s eyes boring into Dongmin’s told him he had no problem with indulging Sohye’s desire to be back one day earlier.

Dongmin understood. ‘Welcome back home, Commander Moon.’

……………………………………………..

‘I want you, Min. I want you, beloved.’

The weak sunlight of an early afternoon filtered through the windowpanes of the King’s study.

Bin could barely stand on his feet from sheer exhaustion – he only had a short nap after the arrival and went on duty straightaway – but nothing mattered when he could finally be with Dongmin, in one room, alone.

The King’s fingers cradled the nape of his neck as Bin pushed him against the wall. ‘Have you locked the door, Binnie?’

He smiled as he bit gently into Dongmin’s lower lip. ‘I have.’

‘Good.’

Bin felt Dongmin pressing against him, the hunger in his kiss. If there was a quiet voice whispering inside his head that they should not be doing this, that this was an unwise idea, it was waning rapidly.

‘I missed you so much, Min,’ he ran his hands up and down Dongmin’s hips. ‘I don’t know how I have survived the month without you.’

He pushed the tunic off Dongmin’s shoulder. ‘I want to be inside you,’ he breathed into his skin. ‘Right here, right now.’

Dongmin laughed quietly into his hair. ‘Goodness, what happened to you, Binnie?’

‘A month without you,’ he grazed Dongmin’s neck with his teeth, enjoying his gasp. ‘A whole month without you. That’s what happened.’

His chainmail was digging into Dongmin’s chest but the King didn’t seem to mind. He hooked his fingers into Bin’s belt and smirked a little. ‘Well then. Take it off.’

Bin laughed out loud, feeling light-headed. ‘Do you mean it?’

‘I shall not say it again,’ chuckling, Dongmin was already pulling off his tunic. ‘You have one chance, Commander. And you’d better be fast.’

‘Oh, you don’t need to say it twice, my King,’ Bin grinned and tossed his belt aside. ‘Come here and let me tear off those…’

A loud knock on the door made them both jump.

‘Your Majesty?’

They stared at each other, frozen.

‘Stay here, Min,’ whispered Bin sharply and picked up his belt, hastily buckling it up.

He opened the door with shaking hands.

Chancellor Park was standing on the doorstep, a sealed letter in his hands. ‘I have a message for the King.’

‘Shall I take it?’ Bin reached for the letter. ‘I… The King has fallen asleep. I can give it to him later.’

The Chancellor shook his head. ‘It is from the Emperor. They have sent a messenger ahead; he said it was only for the King’s or my hands.’

Shrugging, he gave Bin an apologetic smile.

Bin felt cold sweat running down his spine.

‘Enter!’

From behind his back, Dongmin’s voice rang loud and clear.

Not waiting for Bin step aside, the Chancellor pushed his way past him.

Dongmin, sitting at the table looked immaculate, his shirt tucked in, his tunic back on.

Blinking sleepily, he smiled at Park Jinwoo. ‘My apologies, Chancellor. I’ve dozed off.’

He pointed at a pile of letters in front of him and offered and embarrassed smile. ‘I blame Commander Moon. He should have shaken me awake.’

‘You looked rather tired, Your Majesty,’ said Bin, keeping his voice smooth, although his whole body felt wobbly.

‘Anyway,’ the Chancellor cleared his throat. ‘The wedding party is on the way. Here is the message they sent ahead.’

Dongmin took the letter without a word and broke the seal. He scanned it quickly, his face not betraying anything.

‘The Emperor and his family are all in good health and are sending their regards; Princess Nhia is looking forward to being reunited with her betrothed. Their journey is progressing well; they will be here tomorrow, maybe around noon.’

‘Oh, that’s a whole day sooner,’ Bin couldn’t help but gasp a little.

Dongmin frowned a little. ‘The welcome feast will have to take place one day earlier.’

Chancellor Park remained unruffled. ‘Our preparations of the guests’ accommodation is well underway. It should not be a problem. I will have the Steward know – and the Cook. If you excuse me, Your Majesty.’

‘Please, do,’ Dongmin nodded. ‘Thank you, Chancellor.’

The moment the door closed, Bin’s knees almost buckled. ‘That was close.’

Dongmin groaned. ‘Call me selfish – but why?’

He wound his arms around Bin’s waist and leaned their foreheads together. ‘Now we will not have time for each other at all.’

Bin lifted Dongmin’s chin and pecked him on the lips, his legs still trembling a little.

‘If we hurry, we can always finish what we have started before the Chancellor came knocking on the door,’ he whispered.

Dongmin shook his head unhappily. ‘No. I was counting on you coming tomorrow – so I gave permission for my wing to be made ready tonight. The guest bedrooms, the garlands everywhere, even flags being hung out of the windows – there are some carpenters coming here later today. And now that we know the Emperor will be here one day earlier, I can see the army of maids descending on my whole wing at any moment.’

Bin’s heart sunk with disappointment but he tried very hard not to show it.

He grabbed Dongmin’s shoulders and pressed him against the wall again. ‘Let’s go to your bedchamber then,’ he whispered into Dongmin’s hair. ‘We don’t have to be long. Please. I need to be back at the compound tonight, we will have a security council – so it will be someone more junior with you overnight. I only have now.’

Dongmin looked at the verge of tears. ‘My corridor is teeming with servants already. And tomorrow night, the feast will last forever.’

‘I am assigned to guard the Emperor once he is here,’ Bin groaned and pressed his forehead into the crook of Dongmin’s neck. He pushed his hips against Dongmin’s, trying very hard not to rut against him. ‘I will die, Min. This will kill me.’

‘I am sorry, Binnie,’ Dongmin gently stroked his hair.

Bin stepped back and inhaled deeply. ‘No, I am sorry. I am making it more difficult for us, for you. I shall stop complaining.’

Dongmin furrowed his brows. ‘Maybe, ’he said slowly, ‘I know a place.’

He reddened a little. ‘We might not be able to… be together. But we can at least talk.’

‘Yes,’ blurted Bin without hesitation. ‘Yes.’

…………………………….

Once outside, within the walls of the palace grounds, Bin resumed his usual position, just behind Dongmin, and kept walking.

‘Where are we going?’

Dongmin barely turned his head but Bin saw him smile. ‘To the hot spring.’

‘Ah,’ Bin’s heart sped up.

In front of him, Bin could see Dongmin forcing himself to keep a steady, dignified pace. He felt the same. Had they been out of sight, he would be running by now.

After the immaculate laws of Citadel’s gardens gave way to the outer edges of the palace grounds – more woods than pristine flowerbeds and clipped hedges – Bin forced himself to relax. Away from prying eyes, he caught up with Dongmin and they walked alongside each other on the narrow, muddy path, leading into a small pocket of woodland that look almost out of place in Citadel, as if transported from a faraway forest in Dark Mountains.

The trail was deserted. Bin’s boots were getting stained with mud as they walked further, the boggy patches growing bigger and more frequent. The recent rainfalls turned the otherwise pleasant path into a sludgy mess. No wonder the ladies-in-waiting in their dainty satin shoes never ventured here apart from a very short period in late spring and summer, thought Bin, and felt the tension in his muscles lessen gradually.

The hot spring, in the farthest corner of the woods, was an unassuming little pond, hidden amongst a cluster of beeches and hornbeams, their branches hanging low and shielding anyone bathing in the spring from view.

At the sight of it, Dongmin let out a groan of relief. He sat on down on the grassy bank and took off his boots.

‘Come here, Binnie,’ he lowered his feet into the water. ‘There is nobody here… Sit down and relax.’

Bin cast a nervous look around; he didn’t like the idea of them being exposed. Although the footpath leading to the spring was rather unappealing at this time of the year, it still felt too risky.

‘Relax, Binnie,’ Dongmin smiled at him. ‘People only come there in summer, when the weather is pleasant – or in winter when some brave souls decide to show off in front of their friends. Right now, nobody will be there.’

Bin gulped and stomped down the sudden unease that was gripping his throat. He followed the King’s example, taking off his boots and dipping his feet into the warm pond.

The pleasant feel of the rippling water around his toes, the chirping of birds above their heads, the calm - none of it quite managed to unclench the tension in his gut but he forced himself to stop looking around and instead smiled at Dongmin who was swinging his legs and looked like a young boy.

For a while they sat in silence but gradually, the air around them filled with a different kid of tension and when Dongmin finally took Bin’s hand, it felt like a dam bursting open.

He tugged the King closer, close enough that he could reach his lips.

‘I missed you, Min,’ he whispered between the kisses. ‘By Lord, I missed you.’

He started fumbling with the ties on Dongmin’s tunic, hands shaking.

‘Binnie…’

Laughing a little, Dongmin tried to prise his hands away. ‘What are you doing?’

Dongmin’s skin felt warm and smooth under his palms as he slid his hands under his shirt. ‘I want to feel you. I need to hold you.’

He slipped the tunic off Dongmin’s shoulders, he pulled his shirt over his head; when his palms filled with the silk of Dongmin’s skin, something in him started unravelling.

‘My God, Min. Beloved. You will kill me one day. Just by being.’

When Bin crushed him in his arms, Dongmin squirmed a little, pushing them apart. ‘Take it off.’

Confused a little, Bin pulled away.

There was an imprint of Bin’s chainmail on Dongmin’s chest, the links leaving a reddened pattern on the white skin.

‘I am sorry,’ gasped Bin but Dongmin merely chuckled.

‘It’s no matter, just take it off,’ his hands were already lifting the chainmail. ‘I want to feel you too.’

Bin never undressed quicker in his life, flinging his clothes behind him, not caring.

‘Come here, Min, come here…’

A snap of a branch nearby made him yelp in shock.

They both stilled, mid-move, for a long, agonising moment.

When nothing moved in the undergrowth around them, when no more noises disrupted the silence, Bin exhaled shakily. ‘It’s fine. It’s nothing.’

The tension dissipated, leaving only a familiar sense of shame behind.

‘We shouldn’t have done this, Min. It’s so dangerous.’

The King swallowed uneasily. His chest heaved but Bin saw how Dongmin forced himself to steady his trembling hands.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

There was a stubborn resolve in Dongmin’s voice and Bin watched, dumbstruck, as Dongmin shed the rest of his clothes.

‘What… What are you doing, Min?’

Dongmin’s bare skin glowed pale in the deepening shadows but in his eyes, there was a dark glint, daring and a little angry.

‘I’m going to have a bath. Come and join me, Commander.’

Bin frowned. ‘Do you think it’s a wise idea?’

Dongmin was already lowering himself into the water. ‘If the King feels the need to have a bath to soothe his sore back, who is here to tell him otherwise? And if I order you, Commander, to join me - because you need it after three days in the saddle - it is my right to do so. Get in.’

The spring was a balm for Bin’s aching muscles. For a while, he simply closed his eyes and let the hot water soothe the soreness in his limbs. The steam, rising around them in soft tendrils, was making him sleepy and a little light-headed.

‘You must be tired, Binnie.’

Dongmin’s voice was soft as he pulled him closer. Despite knowing how foolish it was, Bin didn’t have any strength left to fight it. He leaned with his back against Dongmin’s chest and let his head rest on his shoulder.

‘This is heaven.’

‘I’m glad,’ Dongmin laughed quietly, ‘that no one can hear your heretical thoughts here.’

Dongmin’s hands were gliding up and down Bin’s chest, down his sides. When they dipped lower, between his legs, Bin let out a shaky breath. ‘What are you doing, Min?’

‘Improving your idea of heaven. Do you like it?’

Bin arched into his touch. ‘I think it… ah… very much improved.’

…………………………………………..

The door to the drawing room swung open and Princess Sohye stormed in, startling Dongmin who was standing in the spacious bay window, posing for Kim Myungjun, the court resident artist.

Sohye paid the unfinished portrait or its author no heed. Instead, she shot Bin, who was standing at the door, a fiery look.

‘Commander Moon! Please come over here and let me persuade Father that the Duke of Hillside is an honourable man and would make a good husband for me!’

‘Commander,’ Dongmin’s lips twitched a little. ‘Stay out of this.’

‘I don’t think I can, Your Majesty,’ with a smirk, Bin abandoned his post at the door and joined the King and his daughter in the spacious bay window.

He resumed his stance behind the King, his body upright and hardly changed even after twenty-four summers in King’s service, the greying temples and two lines between his brows the only signs of passage of time. He exchanged a grin with Sohye.

Dongmin didn’t miss it. ‘I shouldn’t have let you go with Princess Sohye on her official duty. A whole month in her company didn’t do you any god. Now she has you wrapped around her little finger.’

‘I always had Commander Moon wrapped around my little finger, Father,’ mumbled Sohye and Bin only just about supressed a laugh.

‘Sweet Mother of God,’ groaned Dongmin and slid off the stool he was perched on since Princess Sohye’s arrival. ‘I think we are finished for today, Master Myungjun. Thank you.’

A small, slender man, an oversized apron over his velvet tunic, put down his brush, covered the unfinished portrait with a cloth and moved his easel to the side.

He bowed deeply. ‘Your Majesty.’

On his way out, he offered Bin an exaggerated nod and a bright smile. ‘It was my utmost pleasure, Commander Moon.’

Bin felt his ears heat up a little as he nodded back.

When the door closed behind him, Dongmin turned to Sohye.

‘We will discuss Duke of Hillside after your brother’s wedding.’

If Sohye felt slighted by Dongmin’s refusal to take the matter further, she didn’t let it show and gave the King a sweet, pleading look instead.

‘Father, please!’ 

Dongmin rolled his eyes. ‘I don’t know him, my daughter. You can't expect me to have an opinion on someone I have never met.’

‘Commander Binnie does. He met him at the wedding.’

Dongmin arched his eyebrows and turned to Bin. ‘Well then. What do you think of him, Commander?’

‘He is a good man, Your Majesty. An honest young man, as far as I can tell from our brief encounter. But, of course, you need to get to know him better.’

The princess shot Bin a grateful look. ‘If Commander Moon thinks he is good enough, there is a good chance he will be good enough for me – or you, that is.’

Dongmin ran a hand over his face and forced himself to breathe.

‘Do you love him though, my child, or is it a mere infatuation, like your love for embroidery two summers ago – or your love for lute last spring?’

The girl’s face reddened. 

‘I think I love him, Father,’ she said quietly. ‘I might be young and we have not known each other for long but he… he makes me laugh and… and he doesn’t think women belong in the kitchen.’

She beamed suddenly, some of her fire back. ‘We had the most intriguing conversation about their system of dams to improve the irrigation in the region. Fascinating. We could learn from them. It is on a very small scale, of course, but what they did was rather ingenious because…’

Dongmin smiled gently. ‘Well, if he is this fascinating, I shall give him a chance to prove himself. But,’ he rose his eyebrows in a quiet warning, ‘you are only sixteen. Even if you two get betrothed, there will be no wedding for another two or three years – and I’m not making any promises. I need to meet the young man first.’

Sohye’s face betrayed a flash of annoyance but she gulped down her retort. ‘Of course, Father.’

Dongmin smiled at his daughter. ‘I know you think me old but I only want the best for you, my child. You are still very young.’

Sohye’s eyes flashed. ‘I am a year older than my dear Mother was when she married you, Father.’

In the background, Bin stiffened. This was a sore subject and although Dongmin came to terms with his marriage a long time ago he seldom spoke about the Queen. He would willingly share stories about her with his children, especially with So and Sohye who didn’t remember her at all, and they were soft, tender recollection of her kindness and beauty, her liking of roses and her love and devotion to her children. However, when him and Bin were alone, Dongmin didn’t mention the Queen at all – a true testimony how much the King wanted to leave a certain part of his life behind.

Right now, Dongmin looked at his youngest child and sighed. ‘I know, Sohye. Your mother was indeed very young when she married me. We were both young. I don’t know how I deserved her – and I hope I made her happy. But I also know she was quite lonely at the beginning, missing her homeland; missing her family. There is no need to rush into things.’

He straightened, a subtle message that the topic was over. ‘You may go, my child. We will talk about arranging for the Duke to come and visit after the wedding.’

Bin watched Sohye’s face a little tensely but relaxed when the Princess bowed to Dongmin - clearly knowing not to push the matter any further - and flashed him a sweet smile. ‘As you wish, Father.’

Clever girl, thought Bin. I raised her well. She will make a good wife.

………………………………….

‘What a beautiful day, Commander.’

Bin jumped in surprise.

Behind him, Kim Myungjun was grinning widely, a gentle breeze ruffling his hair. ‘Mind if I accompany you? If I am not mistaken, you are on the way from the Palace.’

‘Yes,’ Bin smiled a little self-consciously. ‘I have just finished my shift.’

‘I shall walk with you, Commander. I need to clear my head a little. Too much painting and gossip this morning.’

Bin laughed and waited for Myungjun to catch up with him. ‘Be my guest, Master Myungjun.’

……………..……………….

‘Why do you always have to sleep with the windows open, Binnie?’

Dongmin rested his head on Bin’s shoulder and stroked his chest. The windows of his bedchamber were thrown wide open, the curtains moving slightly in the cool breeze. The summer was nearing its end; the days might have retained their scorching heat for now, especially amidst the heated cobblestones and villas of White City, but the nights were growing chilly and he curled up against Bin’s warm frame with a grateful sigh.

Bin smiled into his hair. ‘Yearlong habit, Min. Not even you can change that.’

‘Wonderful,’ Dongmin huffed. ‘Now I always freeze at night.’

‘Not every night,’ Bin laughed softly, ‘only when I am with you. You are free to suffocate from heat when you sleep on your own. And when I’m here, I shall keep you warm. I am very skilled at that.’

‘Oh, just be quiet, Commander Moon.’

For a while, a comfortable silence ensued but, after a while, Dongmin started tossing and turning.

‘What is the matter, Min?’ Bin stroked his shoulder.

Dongmin groaned. ‘What do you think about Sohye’s Duke, Binnie? I sometimes feel like murdering him for just looking at my daughter.’

Bin giggled. ‘Are you not being a little overprotective, Your Majesty? She is the right age to get betrothed; you should accept that.’

‘I don’t know. How do I know the young man is not after power and position? How do I know he is truly interested in her and not using her as a steppingstone in his career?’

Bin smiled softly and pulled him closer to his chest. ‘You should calm down and look at it with a cool head, Min. The Duke and his family have been loyal to the house of Lee for decades. They are wealthy enough not to want to exploit the connection to the Crown and their House had produced excellent military officers in the past. They are from the North and I, as a Northerner myself, know people there are hardworking and honest, none of the vanity of the spoiled young brats who spend their whole life in the capital and have never seen a foal being born. The only thing the young Duke doesn’t have is royal blood – but that doesn’t make him less worthy of your daughter.’

‘I suppose,’ Dongmin sighed. ‘I must stop fretting. But I want her to have a good marriage. I want her to love her husband, Binnie. How do I know he will love her? How do I know, Binnie? I don’t want her to end up like my late wife. Unloved.’

‘The Queen was not unloved, Min,’ Bin said quietly. ‘I think you loved her much more than you knew.’

‘You think so, Binnie?’

Bin’s heart ached. ‘I am certain of it. There are different kinds of love.’

‘Oh, Binnie,’ Dongmin buried his face in his chest. ‘I don’t know anymore what to think. Sohye in love. Suhun getting married last month. It’s all happening and – I don’t know if… It’s all too fast.’

‘But these are good things, beloved,’ Bin pressed a kiss into Dongmin’s hair. ‘Sohye is old enough to fall in love for the first time and Suhun seems truly happy.’

‘I feel like I’ve sold him like a prized cow,’ whispered Dongmin unhappily. ‘How is it different from what my father did to me? The only difference is I am securing the eastern border now,’ he added bitterly.

Bin hugged him tighter. ‘It is very much different, Min. You let the Crown Prince go and live there for three years. Yes, I know you had an ulterior motive for letting Suhun go so easily and allowing him to study astronomy in the East. You made him happy, yes, and your son is deeply grateful to you for that – but it was political too. Of course it was. You are the King, first of all, only then a father. But it worked. Suhun gained many friends at the Cloud Emperor’s court – and his daughter fell in love with him. Isn’t that what you wanted?’

‘But I feel like I have manipulated my son into his marriage.’

‘Would you have forced him to marry one of the Emperor’s daughters even if he didn’t want it himself?’

‘I am not sure. That’s the worst part. I might have. How am I better than my father then?’

‘Min. Stop beating yourself up. What happened, happened for the best. Princess Nhia looks genuinely happy in love, your son too. The Cloud Emperor and his wives had a nice time here – all went well. Nobody mentioned his third wife, nothing happened to complicate our relationships. The wedding was a success.’

‘I suppose you are right,’ sighed Dongmin.

‘Yes, I am,’ smirked Bin. ‘All went really well. We had to smooth out a couple of, well, near-incidents – I think the Emperor might have broken some hearts amongst our court ladies – but all got swept under the carpet rather nicely and none of his wives noticed anything. We did well.’

‘Oh my Lord,’ groaned Dongmin. ‘Let us not talk about _that_. He reminded me of my dear Father. Undressing every woman who walked past him with his eyes. I could barely stand his remarks.’

‘Well,’ snickered Bin. ‘But I couldn’t help but notice how _your_ eyes rested more than once on one of his ministers – the young one, in charge of education. You seemed rather interested in him.’

‘Are you jealous, Binnie? I really liked him; he had rather revolutionary ideas – we could learn a thing or two from their school system.’

‘Oh, but it definitely helped that he had flawless skin, and an ass that could rival yours back in the day.’

‘Are you saying my ass is not what it used to be?’ Dongmin gasped in mock indignation.

‘Your ass, beloved,’ Bin leaned closer, his lisp brushing Dongmin’s ear, ‘is truly exquisite – and right now I want nothing more than to be buried in it.’

Dongmin reddened. ‘You have no shame, Binnie.’

Bin pushed Dongmin’s knees apart. ‘I think you should stop talking now, my King,’ he smirked.

………………………………

In the darkness, Bin felt Dongmin’s hand running up and down his spine.

‘Why are you not asleep, Min?’

The light touches on his back stopped but there was no answer.

‘Beloved,’ Bin rolled over onto his back. ‘What is troubling you? Tell me.’

He could hear Dongmin’s sharp inhale. ‘I… I saw you today with Master Myungjun. I thought you looked quite enamoured by him.’

Bin folded his arms behind his head and frowned a little. ‘Are you jealous, my King?’

Dongmin withdrew his hand. ‘He… I watched you both through the window as you were leaving. He made you laugh.’

Bin gulped uneasily and sat up. He took Dongmin hand. ‘Min. Listen. I like Myungjun, he is easy to talk to and yes, he makes me laugh. But that’s all. There is no more to it.’

‘No more?’

‘No more.’

‘You know I will banish him from the country if he touches you?’

Bin laughed out loud. ‘Your Majesty IS jealous.’

He leaned closer and kissed Dongmin’s shoulder. ‘Don’t be, Min. There is no place for anyone else in my heart. Only you.’

‘How do I know?’

In the dark room, Dongmin’s voice rang too quiet, unsure.

‘I can prove it to you one more time tonight,’ he breathed into Dongmin’s skin. ‘Would you like that?’

‘Yes.’

…………………………

The trees in the palace gardens were shedding their leaves, the carpet of them rustling under Bin’s boots.

He liked the walk back to the compound after a night duty, the brisk air of an early morning, the solitude. Satisfied, with the feel of Dongmin’s skin still clinging to his palms, he could close his eyes for a short while and dream of a different life, a made-up world where him and Dongmin would be free, far away from prying eyes.

‘My God, I would love to paint you one day.’

He spun around.

Myungjun emerged from behind a corner, sporting a wide smile.

‘Good morning, Commander. I’m simply musing about how I would love to paint you.’ Myungjun’s eyes roamed appreciatively over Bin’s tall frame. ‘I have a thing for strong, beautiful men.’

‘Not this again, Master Myungjun. I’ve already said no twice.’

Bin sped up a little but Myungjun was not to be deterred. ‘Why would you not consider it?’

‘I should think there are many strong men in the palace who are more beautiful than me, Master Myungjun – and much younger.’

Myungjun waved his hand dismissively. ‘Who cares about youth, Commander. A more mature body and face tell a story. Like yours. That’s why I would love to paint you.’

Bin laughed. ‘Over my dead body, Master Myungjun.’

‘It would be a very beautiful dead body, Commander.’

Bin groaned in frustration. ‘I like how you presume that my body is beautiful. Not once have you seen me without my chainmail and you instantly assume I look good underneath. I wish you would stop with that and found someone else to make such proposals to.’

‘Oh, but that’s where you are mistaken, Commander,’ Myungjun whispered softly. ‘I have seen you without your clothes on.’

Bin stopped walking. He blocked Myungjun’s path, eyes challenging. ‘When?’

Myungjun cocked his head and smirked. ‘You are asking the wrong question, Commander.’

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t be asking when did I see you – but with whom?’

Bin’s blood froze.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about.’

‘Oh, but you will know - when I help you to refresh your memory.’

From a pouch tied to his belt, Myungjun pulled a small scroll and unfurled it.

Bin feel like a rug was snatched from under his feet. He lunged forward a grabbed the sketch out of Myungjun’s hand. He stared at the drawing, blood turning cold in his veins. It was him and Dongmin, together at the hot spring.

‘I saw you there,’ Myungjun said quietly. ‘You really should have been more careful.’

The first impulse was to destroy it, to tear it apart, into tiny pieces – but something stopped him.

‘I saw you drawing from memory once,’ he whispered, voice almost gone. ‘Even if I took this away from you, you could sketch another one.’

‘I could,’ Myungjun agreed lightly. ‘It wouldn’t be as accomplished as this one, when I had live models,’ Bin groaned at the amusement in Myungjun’s voice, ‘but I would be able to do it.’

‘In that case,’ Bin drew a sword, ‘I need to kill you, Master Myungjun. My duty is to protect the King. From everything and everybody.’

To his surprise, Myungjun didn’t move. Didn’t seem too terrified either. He merely shrugged, the amusement still not gone from his voice.

‘What if I don’t want to destroy the King, Commander? What if I don’t want to destroy anybody?’

Myungjun carefully lowered the sword, aimed at his throat and moved so close, Bin could feel the warmth of his body.

‘What if I want to negotiate, Commander?’

‘I’ll do whatever you want.’

Myungjun’s laugh seemed too carefree and Bin could feel his muscles tense.

‘Why are you laughing?’

Myungjun stopped and looked Bin up and down, something in his gaze making shiver. ‘If I asked you again, would you sit for me?’

Bin bit his tongue to stop the words tumbling out, harsh words, words that were not thought through. He couldn’t afford to say them now. He swallowed down the humiliation and nodded.

‘Of course. I will sit for you, Master Myungjun.’

Myungjun’s face lit up. ‘Excellent! When are you off duty?’

‘Tonight after I accompany the King to the evening prayers in the chapel.’

‘Splendid,’ grinned Myungjun. ‘I shall join you in the chapel this evening. I should show my piety in front of the King from time to time anyway; and tonight is as good as any. After that, we can retire to my chambers. When do you need to be on duty with the King tomorrow?

‘Just before noon, after the council meeting. I am training the recruits tomorrow morning.’

Myungjun leaned closer and stroked Bin’s cheek. ‘ I would suggest you swap your morning shift with someone else. You wouldn’t want to be rushed tomorrow morning.’

Bin swallowed the feeling of nausea churning in his stomach and nodded.

……………..……………

Myungjun’s chambers were in the outer wing – not amongst the royalty but as close as one could possibly get – and Bin trembled at the thought that someone so ostensibly in King’s good graces would be thinking of harming him.

For a moment he seriously entertained the idea of killing the artist the moment they would be behind closed doors but eventually decided against it. There might be other people whom Myungjun had told about Bin and Dongmin’s relationship and his death wouldn’t stop the rumours – if anything, it would exacerbate it.

With a resigned sigh, he followed Myungjun into a spacious parlour, simply furnished with a big lounger, an easel in the centre of the room and a couple of chairs and small tables dotted seemingly at random around the room. Several big candelabras were lit and stood on the floor, casting a soft, golden glow on the richly embroidered brocade cushions on the lounger.

Myungjun, having closed and locked the door behind him, headed straight for the easel. On a small table next to it was an array of pots with paint, brushes and ink bottles. He rummaged through the assortment, movements slow, unhurried, as if he was enjoying the moment.

‘Take off your sword, Commander; make yourself comfortable. I will be just sketching tonight.’

There was a low side table near the lounger and Bin took off his sword and placed it carefully on the lacquered surface, measuring the distance in his head, calculating subconsciously how long it would take him to lunge for it, if needed.

After taking off his belt as well, he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, muscles tense. As if sensing his discomfort, Myungjun looked up and gave him a crooked smile.

‘Time to take off that chainmail, Commander.’

Bin gulped. The metal clinked softly as he let it fall on the floor.

From the painting paraphernalia, Myungjun took a stick of charcoal and turned to Bin, eyebrows arched high.

‘And the rest, if you please.’

Bin started shaking but did his best to hide it. This was not the time to be squeamish. If all it took to protect Dongmin was to endure being salivated over by some half-stranger, clad in a perfumed tunic, he would take it.

His fingers trembled as he peeled off his tunic, folded it neatly and put it down on the lounger. He was aware how desperately he was trying to put off what was coming but couldn’t help it; he was dreading it.

The strings on the neck of his shirt turned slippery from the sweat on his hands. The cold air hit the skin on his back and made him break into goose bumps as he pulled it over his head.

Clutching the shirt in his hands, he stopped. Myungjun’s eyes on him felt like they were burning holes into his body.

He let go of the shirt bur found he couldn’t continue.

‘Are you shy, Commander?’ Muyngjun smirked a little. ‘Don’t be; you look beautiful. As a matter of fact, I could do a lot more than just paint you – should you agree.’

He stepped closer, running his long fingers down Bin’s bare chest and hooking them into the waistband of his riding breeches.

Bin closed his eyes for a moment. He was used to injuries, pain, hunger – but this was a new level of humiliation and it hurt more than anything else.

We had a good run, Dongmin and me, he thought bitterly, but no secret will stay hidden forever.

It was time for damage control. If all it took to protect Dongmin was to be fucked by some half-stranger with carefully coiffed hair and manicured nails, he would take it.

Without opening his eyes, he took a deep breath. ‘Do whatever you want, Master Myungjun, as long as you promise me not to hurt the King.’

He expected Myungjun to undo his breeches but, to his surprise, nothing happened. After what felt like eternity, Myungjun’s fingers slipped away.

Confused, Bin opened his eyes.

Myungjun was sitting on the lounger, running a hand over his face. When he patted the spot next to him, he looked older and tired.

‘Come and sit down, Commander.’

Bin obeyed without a word.

‘You really love him, don’t you?’

Bin could only nod.

’Does he love you back, you think?’ Myungjun looked sceptical.

’He does.’

The simple answer seemed to have taken the wind out of Myungjun’s sails. He looked down, at his hands, now folded in his lap.

‘You see,’ he sighed, ‘when I bed someone, I would like them to enjoy it. You, Commander, on the other hand, look like a lamb led for slaughter. I don’t want to go to bed with a companion who is visibly gritting his teeth at the thought of touching me.’

He looked up and smiled at Bin, some of the spark returning to his eyes. ‘Put that shirt back on, Commander. Are you hungry?’

He jumped up and disappeared through the door into what Bin was guessing was his bedroom. When he emerged, in his hands was a big platter heaped with cold meat cuts and fruit.

He set it on a small low table and pulled it closer to the lounger where Bin was sitting. ‘Here. Help yourself, Commander.’

From a side table under the window, he brought a carafe of red wine and two goblets.

‘See? I was prepared,’ he winked, while pouring Bin a drink. ‘You could say I was hopeful – but I’m not cruel.’

He took a gulp and sat down next to Bin.

‘I didn’t realise you truly loved him. And that he loved you back. I simply saw you both and thought, well, well, well, who would have thought that our King likes men? And of course, he would go for the charismatic Commander Moon, because who wouldn’t? Shush, Commander. I didn’t mean this as an insult, I am simply stating the facts. And the facts are, rulers of this world seldom fall in love with those whom they fuck. At least our late King certainly didn’t. King Hwan used to chase after every skirt that as much as rustled in his presence. I wasn’t a member of the Royal court back then - I was in Florence – but the old courtiers always like to reminiscence while I’m painting them. One learns things.’

He gave Bin an apologetic smile. ‘I didn’t have any reason to suspect his son would be any different. I always thought King Dongmin was simply more discreet.’

Watching Myungjun in stony silence and not dignifying his musing with and answer, Bin finally seemed to make his companion flustered.

Looking much more humble than mere moments ago, Myungjun cleared his throat, took another gulp from his goblet and set it down on the side table.

‘So. Tell me about yourself, Commander. You are such an enigma, always hovering in the background, your face giving nothing away – but I saw you off duty and I think you are much more than a stony face and muscles at the ready.’

Bin reddened. ‘My life is not very interesting, Master Myungjun. I am here to protect the King, that’s all.’

‘But who are you, Commander? What do you do when you’re not protecting your King? What do you do when you’re just yourself?’

In the soft candlelight, Myungjun’s eyes were surprisingly gentle, without any mockery. ‘What do you like doing when there is no one to protect?’

Bin thought long and hard. It was difficult; focusing on his own life was not something he was used to.

‘I… I don’t know,’ he smiled a little shamefacedly. ‘There is always something to do in the compound. I still train the recruits; I like drawing maps. To this day, I’m responsible for teaching the Royal children the art of sword fighting. The Crown Prince Suhun has already defeated me a couple of times; he is an excellent swordmaster.’

‘But what do you do for fun?’ Myungjun poured more wine into Bin’s goblet.

Bin leaned back onto the soft cushions. ‘Would you believe me if I told you I don’t know, Master Myungjun?’

He took a gulp of his wine and laughed out loud. ‘Life is not supposed to be fun, Master Myungjun. Maybe for you it is. But not for me; not for most people.’

‘When we have a little bit of time, we just sit by the fire in the evening – me, Minhyuk and Hoseok. We never talk much but it is nice to simply sit and rest at the end of the day.’

He sighed a little sadly. ‘It’s mostly me and Hoseok these days.’

‘I know. Officer Park seems to be rather busy enjoying domestic bliss with one of his fellow guards. I don’t blame him; I would also prefer fucking officer Yoon to staring into the flames with you.’

Bin gasped. ‘Why are you doing this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Myungjun shrugged. ‘I enjoy watching people; I’m rather good at noticing things. Also, you wouldn’t believe how much people tell me while I’m painting them. I hear all sorts of gossip.’

‘Who else knows?’ Bin jumped up and grabbed a fistful of Myungjun’s tunic.

‘Nobody knows,’ Myungjun gently prised Bin’s fingers away. ‘And I don’t intend to tell anyone.’

‘How do I know I can believe you?’

‘You cannot. But why would I do that? What would I gain?’

‘I do not know! Only a couple of hours ago you were threatening to expose the King.’

Myungjun raised a finger in protest. ‘I never said such thing. I told you I knew about you – but I never said I would tell anyone else. What good would it do to me to bite the hand that feeds me? King Dongmin is a generous patron of arts; I myself have been living in the Citadel for almost five years. I would never be so foolish.’

‘Why did you do it then? Why did you pretend to – ‘

Myungjun’s smirk told Bin everything.

‘You dangled that picture over my head, threatening me with it – just to make me to take off my clothes so you could paint me?’

Myungjun giggled. ‘I am not a honourable man, Commander, and I never was. I was hoping you would know as much after so many years in service – not to trust anyone.’

He slid the platter in front of Bin. ‘Eat, Commander. I know you don’t trust me at all but you should know I would never do anything to hurt the King – I like my life at the court too much.’

‘And the idea that the King lies with a man doesn’t bother you at all? You don’t feel any need to rid the world of yet another two sodomites? You don’t put your values about your comfort, the righteousness above the comfort of your quarters?’

For once, Myungjun’s face was devoid of any smile.

‘I don’t see anything wrong with preferring men, Commander. Here, it’s punishable by death but I spent my youth as an apprentice to a great Master who…’ Myungjun run a hand over his face, ‘who liked men. Many of his students were beautiful and he didn’t hesitate to show if he liked someone.’

He smiled at Bin, a tinge of sadness lingering in the corners of his mouth. ‘It was strangely liberating – the knowledge that with him, I didn’t need to pretend. It wasn’t allowed there either, not really, but behind the closed door of his atelier, I was never judged for being who I was. The only thing that mattered were my sketching and painting skills - and maybe my ability to utter witty remarks.’

He gulped down some of his wine and poured more into Bin’s goblet. ‘Blessed days. I miss them.

Bin frowned. ‘Aren’t you afraid sometimes?’

Myungjun laughed. ‘Of course I am! I might act foolish and silly for the entertainment of the noble ladies when I’m painting them – but I’m _not_ a fool. Aren’t _you_ afraid?’

‘All the time.’

…………..……………………..

The morning seeped through the gaps in the curtains, hanging in thick swathes over the windows.

Bin woke up with a groan. For a moment, he didn’t remember where he was, whose bed he woke up in, then the memories of the last night flooded in – or at least the beginning of it. He couldn’t remember for the love of God how he ended up in Myungjun’s bed.

The throbbing behind his temples felt like his head has been pummelled with a sledgehammer from the inside and he sat up carefully, trying to move as little as possible.

Hesitantly, he stroked the sheets he had been tangled in. They were made of smooth silk in rich colours, the cushions filled with the softest down. The bed he had slept in was enormous; it was also empty.

Bin held his head in his hands and tried to remember what happened the night before. With relief, he noticed that he was still wearing his clothes, although his boots had been taken off and stood neatly by the bed.

The door creaked. 

Myungjun popped his head in and beamed. ‘Commander! I am delighted to see you awake! Although I shall not be asking whether you slept well.’

His smirk told Bin that Myungjun was enjoying himself a little too much.

‘What happened last night?’ he whispered hoarsly.

‘Nothing happened.’

‘I remember us talking…’

‘And talking we did. No more than that, I haste to add. Although I need to tell you - you made me cry, Commander. You are a poet.’

‘Oh my Lord,’ groaned Bin. ‘I recited one of my poems to you last night, didn’t I? How drunk was I?’

‘Pretty drunk, I should say. In my defence, I brought out the best wine there was in my possession.’

Bin clutched his head. ‘Sweet Mother of God. Will you not tell anyone that I write poetry?’

‘I will take your secret to my grave, Commander. But let me tell you – you are a true artist. You should publish your work. Under a different name, of course.

‘No, no, no,’ Bin shook his head desperately. ‘Please. Don’t. I could never do that.’

‘No, I suppose not,’ sniggered Myungjun. ‘The love that mustn’t be named’ – it is a risky topic you’re are singing praises about.’

‘Please, stop talking,’ mumbled Bin, clutching his head. ‘I need to go. I am sorry last night didn’t go according to your plan-‘

‘I’m not complaining, Commander,’ interrupted him Myungjun briskly. ‘Despite having to change my plans a little, I still got what I wanted.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let me show you.’

Myungjun left the room, only to return with a bunch of scrolls, covered in sketches.

‘I wanted to capture your story, Commander, and I did.’

He handed the sketches over. Bin took them hesitantly and leafed through them.

It was him.

Sitting on the lounger, head tipped back in carefree laughter.

Curled up on the floor, the knees under his chin, eyes dreamy.

Asleep in Myungjun’s bed, a look of such peace on his face he didn’t know he was capable of.

‘I think that I did capture the true you – even with all your clothes on,’ Myungjun said quietly. ‘Maybe I, too, learned something last night, Commander.’

Bin placed the pictures on the bed.

‘Thank you, Master Myungjun – for understanding.’

Myungjun shook his head. ‘No, I thank you, Commander. Please, fear not, everything that was said here last night will stay between us. And for God’s sake, be more careful in the future.’

….………………………….…

**Year 95 of the House of Lee. The Month of Yule.**

The countryside was covered in a thin layer of frost.

The hooves of the King’s escort were making harsh sounds on a steep, narrow road, heading towards the mountains looming on the horizon. The caravan was advancing at a brisk pace, the riders looking stubbornly ahead, picturing the warm, crackling fire and a hearty meal that was awaiting them at the end.

In front, Bin was riding beside Dongmin, wishing desperately they were at High Castle already, although - if he was to be totally honest with himself - he wished they were not on the road at all.

For the last month, the King had not been well and they had had an argument some weeks previously, when Bin had tried to persuade Dongmin to cancel the annual visit to High Castle but failed miserably. The only concession the King had – albeit very reluctantly - made, was that they would go later and only stay for Christmas.

Next to him, Dongmin stopped his horse at the side of the road. He motioned for Bin to join him, letting the rest of the party pass them by.

He pointed down, at the valley stretching in front of their eyes.

‘Do you remember?’

‘I do.’

In silence, they watched Rivervale below them, its many windows blinking sleepily in the falling dusk.

‘You can visit your family and return in a couple of days – if you want to.’

Dongmin motioned towards a cottage, perched in a little clearing above the village.

Bin watched the shadows lengthening in the valley, thinking of his mother resting next to his father in a small graveyard behind the church. He thought of his sister, a respectable matron now, enjoying her twilight years surrounded by her daughters and sons and her many grandchildren living all around the valley.

He shook his head softly. ‘No. Thank you, my King, for the offer but I shall not go. It would only fluster my nephew and his wife, me coming unannounced and so late in the day. My place is with you, my King.’

Next to him, Dongmin smiled and nodded but didn’t move.

Out of some unexplainable impulse, Bin found it hard to leave. He watched his childhood home, half-hidden now behind trees that his father had planted and he himself watched growing as a child.

The place held sweet memories, fleeting moments coloured in the soft glow of early childhood – but his heart was not there anymore.

His heart was with the man who now patiently held the reins of his horse and let Bin have this bittersweet moment, a man who – almost forty summers ago – crossed Bin’s path in the dark forests above Rivervale and forever changed the course of his life.

Bin watched the places of his childhood and pondered how the stream of his life got diverted after meeting Dongmin. Some might have thought his life pointless and barren – there would never be children carrying the Moon family name, little boys or girls having his blood in their veins – but Bin never considered his life empty or fruitless.

He thought of Sohye, his beloved daughter in all but blood and name, now an accomplished, strong woman with a family of her own, the King’s most ardent peace ambassador in the North. Her regular letters to this day warmed Bin’s heart.

He thought of Minhyuk, Sanha and Hoseok, his lifelong friends, whose friendships lined his passing years like blazing lanterns, offering comfort and warmth.

And he thought of the man who held his heart in his hands and had done it for so long that Bin wasn’t able to remember the times when he didn’t love him.

He smiled at Dongmin.

‘Let’s go.’

……………………..…………..

The Yuletide banquet the Steward of High Castle was throwing in Dongmin’s honour might not have been lavish enough compared to the Christmas festivities of his youth but Bin knew the King was excited. Dongmin much preferred the simple, homemade meals, served by blushing young women hired from the neighbouring villages, to the stilted, pretentious show of excess he was made to sit through as a young man every Christmas during his father’s reign.

Bin remembered the stressed faces of maids and cooks during his first winter when he had accompanied King Hwan and his court to High Castle, the frantic footsteps shuffling through the corridors, the tense silence that followed as he - a young guard bringing a message to the Cook - entered the vast castle kitchen with its high vaulted ceiling and an enormous fireplace where a whole pig was being roasted on a spit, turned by a young boy of perhaps eight years, who, upon seeing Bin in his chainmail, nearly fainted from fright.

Forty winters later, the frantic excitement has not changed – but fear was not draining the faces of cooks and chambermaids anymore.

‘The King is here,’ whispered the stable boys on the night of the Court’s arrival, but their ruddy cheeks didn’t pale in terror when Dongmin dismounted his horse in the cobbled inner courtyard, above which loomed the highest tower of the castle, the Keep.

Dongmin threw the reins into the hands of a young boy standing nearby and smiled at his clumsy bow.

‘Take good care of her, son. Her name is Moonlight and she is a good girl.’

After exchanging greetings with the Steward and his family, Dongmin waved at Bin to follow.

Bin, who was talking to Minhyuk, took in the sickly pallor of Dongmin’s face and hurriedly concluded the conversation. He knew Minhyuk would take care of the guards as well as he himself would.

The journey seemed to have taken its toll on Dongmin, who was walking up a steep flight of wooden stairs leading to the Keep. Despite having spent the whole day in the saddle, he kept his posture ramrod straight and face composed but Bin watched him gripping the banister so hard his knuckles went white.

The torches illuminating the inky darkness of the courtyard were casting deep shadows on his face and Bin’s stomach contracted with unease. Dongmin looked exhausted and, for the first time in years, he looked his age.

He knew better than to ask the King how he was feeling, however, and followed him without a word. The wooden stairs creaked as they walked upstairs, their boots leaving wet footprints in their wake and a fine mist of snow falling off their cloaks.

……………………........

‘Are you sure you want to attend the banquet?’

‘Of course. Not to do so would be a terrible insult. Don’t worry, Binnie. I shall be fine. ’

If Dongmin felt better in the morning after a long sleep, by the evening of his first day at High Castle, he looked drained again. Although seemingly there to relax and enjoy Christmas, there were meetings to attend and people to receive, one after another in quick succession. Bin watched grimly as Dongmin’s face became more and more pinched in the course of the day, as his words were more and more often interrupted by incessant dry cough.

In the afternoon, he couldn’t watch the King struggle any longer and under the ruse of him having to attend to an urgent matter, he made Dongmin retreat into his chamber and take a nap before the banquet was about to commence.

‘We shouldn’t have come this year, Min.’

After sleeping for two hours, Dongmin’s cheeks had a hint of colour and he looked refreshed.

‘But this is what I’ve been doing every year - and I always look forward to it. People here are much less pretentious than in the capital. It’s enough that we didn’t come for the hunting season this year. I’m still angry with you for talking me out of it.’

He paused and doubled over as a new fit of coughing overtook him.

Bin stood by helplessly and rubbed his back until Dongmin caught his breath again. Then he poured the King a cup of herbal tea from a big pot that stood, steaming, on the nightstand.

‘Drink. One of the maids, the old one, brought this while you were asleep. Said it would help to sooth the cough.’

Dongmin sniffed the brew. ‘What is it?’

Bin shrugged. ‘She called it ‘the seven-herbs-miracle’ against cough. Thyme, raspberry leaves, coltsfoot flowers – I can't remember all of them. And honey. I’ve tried it; it’s not that awful. Certainly better then the brew my mother used to give me when I had stomach ache. It tasted like bile.’

The King laughed. ‘Ah, centaury! By God, that stuff was utterly vile! I remember it too. Nurse swore by it.’

They both exchanged a grin over the steam rising from the cup and Dongmin took another sip.

‘Shall I call for your manservant, Min? You need to start getting ready.’

Dongmin drained the cup and set it back on the bedside table. His movements were slow.

‘Will you help me instead, Binnie?’ he whispered. ‘I don’t feel like… talking to anyone else right now.’

‘Of course.’

King’s clothes were ready, laid out on the foot of the bed. Bin eyed the ornate garb and bristled at the thought of Dongmin’s thin body suffocating underneath it for the whole night.

As if reading his mind, Dongmin frowned and pushed the heavily embroidered fabric away. ‘I’m not wearing that. I won’t be able to breathe in that damn thing. It’s too heavy.’

Bin knelt down and opened a richly carved wooden chest standing under the window. Inside were Dongmin’s garments that the maids unpacked in the morning.

‘Let’s find you something lighter to wear. This year, the good people of North will have to forgo the usual display of splendour they expect from you.’

Dongmin hated the showiness of his formal robes but knew that for ordinary people and minor noblemen, the King was almost like a mythical figure. Although he much preferred plain clothes – Bin knew that if Dongmin had the choice he would live in his riding clothes – the annual Yuletide banquet was the occasion where he indulged his subjects and wheeled out the beautiful brocade tunics and cloaks in rich colours, new every year.

Not this year, Bin thought. He pulled out a simple velvet tunic from the bottom of the chest and stroked the dark blue fabric. He never told Dongmin but he loved seeing him wearing it; the colour reminded him of the cloak Dongmin wore when they first met; one that Bin secretly took one day and hid under the mattress in his room; one that he carried everywhere with him like a talisman.

He definitely wouldn’t tell Dongmin that he had it in his travelling sack now.

Instead, he lifted the tunic and cocked his head. ‘This one? You look good in blue.’

Dongmin laughed out loud, then dissolved in another coughing fit.

‘As you wish,’ he wheezed through the tears. ‘I want to look good for you.’

Bin dropped the tunic and ran to get Dongmin another cup of tea. ‘Drink.’

He led the King to the bed and held him in his arms until the cough subsided.

‘Do you want to lie down for a bit?’

Dongmin took the tea out of his hands and drank the whole cup in one go. ‘No. I need to get ready. Sohye and her husband will be arriving soon. I don’t want my daughter worry about her old, feeble father.’

‘You are not feeble, my King,’ Bin smiled gently. ‘Just sick. You should be in bed. And your daughter will scold you anyhow and tell you the same thing.’

‘I don’t want to disappoint anyone,’ Dongmin leaned his head against Bin’s shoulder. ‘People have been preparing for weeks; I need to at least make an appearance.’

‘I know,’ Bin rubbed his back. ‘But promise me you won’t stay long.’

Dongmin snuggled against his chest and closed his eyes. ‘I promise. I feel too tired as it is. But right now, let’s get ready.’

Bin kissed the top of his head and let go. ‘Let’s do that.’

From the chest, he took out the thinnest shirt he could find, the finest linen, made soft by many washes.

He helped Dongmin to peel of his clothes. If his heart clenched at the sight of Dongmin’s body, how thin he became in the last months, he didn’t show it.

Once ready, he combed Dongmin’s hair and styled it the way local people wore it, with half of his hair in a braid, half tumbling down his back and two thin braids framing his face.

‘You look like one of the Lords from around here.’

He stepped back and admired his handiwork. ‘Only more beautiful.’

From the jewellery box he took out a thick gold chain and handed it to Dongmin.

The King hung the chain around his neck and fastened the clasp on his cloak.

‘I’m as ready as can be. Shall we go, Binnie?’ he sighed.

Bin grabbed his belt and the sword. ‘Let us go.’

……………………………………

The Great Hall was ablaze with the light of hundreds of candles. A large Venetian mirror on the wall opposite the fireplace reflected the flickering flames, brightening the otherwise gloomy, cavernous room with its narrow windows and dark wooden panelling. Dozens of spruce garlands lined the walls, interwoven with sprigs of ivy and clumps of holly, its berries bright red amongst the dark evergreens.

A massive table, running the entire length of the room was laden with steaming tureens of venison stew, with bowls of fragrant rice, trays of roasted ducks and boiled pork, and platters laden with sweetmeats.

Dongmin, seated at the head of the table barely picked at his food. Bin, from his vantage point behind the King’s back, could see Sohye’s face opposite Dongmin, gradually clouding with worry. At some point later in the evening, after Dongmin was consumed by a particularly trying coughing fit, she raised her eyes and pierced Bin with a murderous glare.

He could read the question in her face.

_How come he is here at all? Why is he not back at home in bed?_

Bin could only shrug his shoulders in a helpless gesture and carry on watching Dongmin with a growing unease.

And yet, the King laughed, joked and kept raising his goblet and cheering with the others.

After midnight, Bin could not watch any more. He leaned to whisper into Dongmin’s ear.

‘You should retire now, Your Majesty.’

As Dongmin inhaled a little sharply in order to protest, Sohye threw him a beaming smile. ‘What a great idea, Father. A good night’s rest is what you need. My husband and I are leaving early tomorrow and I would love you to ride with us. Your grandchildren are keen to see you again.’

She exchanged the briefest of glimpses with Bin and he knew that Dongmin would not be going anywhere next morning. But Dongmin was placated with the prospect and after a brief chat with the Steward and his wife, he took his leave.

Sohye enveloped him in a careful hug. ‘I shall see you tomorrow morning, Father.’

Behind Dongmin’s back, she grabbed Bin’s sleeve just as he was about to follow in Dongmin’s footsteps. ‘Why is he here, Commander? He is not well at all!’

Bin looked at her desperately. ‘I know, Your Highness. But he insisted. He wanted to see you.’

‘You make sure he stays in bed from now on, Commander,’ Sohye hissed.

When she saw Bin’s anguished expression, she softened. ‘I will visit him tomorrow morning. Please, look after him, will you?’

‘I shall, Your Highness.’

………………………………..

He woke up in the middle of the night, panic clawing at his throat. It took him a couple of moments to figure out what was amiss.

In bed next to him, Dongmin’s naked body blazed like a torch.

‘Oh, Mother of God,’ whispered Bin, scrambling to sit up. ‘Min. Can you hear me?’

The King opened his eyes. Their feverish glow did nothing to calm Bin’s racing heart.

‘Everything… Everything hurts,’ he whispered and shut his eyes again. Bin stumbled out of bed in blind panic.

He knew the old maid was sleeping in the corridor, her cot tucked into a small recess, and he tore outside.

In the dark, he stumbled over his own feet, barely able to see. The light of a single lantern was flickering in the corner, casting long shadows over the uneven, whitewashed walls.

The maid was curled up under a worn woollen blanket. Bin shook her shoulder. ‘Mother!’ he hissed. ’Mother, wake up!’

A light sleeper, as old people are, the woman opened her eyes instantly. ‘What’s the matte-‘

She gasped.

Bin followed her gaze and broke out in a cold sweat.

He was naked.

‘Forgive me, Mother,’ he stammered, pushing the horror of another kind into the furthest corner of his mind. ‘The King is not well. Not well at all. Fever.’

The wise eyes watched his panic-stricken face for a moment, then the old woman’s features softened.

She straightened up with a groan, grabbing onto a walking stick, propped next to her cot. ‘Take me to the King,’ she said simply.

In the chamber, she ran her hand over Dongmin’s face, rested it briefly on his forehead. She leaned closer and listened to his raspy breaths for a minute, without a word.

In the corner, Bin was hastily throwing on his clothes. His hands were shaking so badly, he could hardly tie up the strings on his breeches.

‘Is it bad?’

‘It is not good,’ came the clipped answer.

She stood up. ‘I will brew some tea that we give for fever. But we need to do more than that. You will come with me and help me to bring sheets. We are going to soak them in cold water and wrap him in them. It will not be pleasant – but it should help to lower the fever.’

She pierced Bin with a hard gaze. ‘How long has he been coughing?’

‘For weeks.’

If the old woman thought the King foolish to have travelled in such condition, she didn’t comment on it.

‘Let’s go, Commander.’

At the door, Bin hesitated. ‘Will you, please, not mentioned to anyone…?’

She understood and levelled him with a tired gaze that looked as if nothing could surprise her anymore.

‘I am an old woman and don’t understand the new world anymore, Commander,’ she sighed. ‘The world where men lie with men and women travel the world on their own. But you are a good person, Commander. A honourable man. That is what matters. Now come, we have no time to spare on trifles.’

Bin’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Thank you, Mother.’

She waved her wrinkly hand as if she dismissed the whole thing as unimportant, then started shuffling down the corridor with surprising speed. Bin hastily wiped his eyes and followed her without a word.

…………………………..………

The hours blended into a day, then two - a hazy, dark string of uncertainty, bad news or no news at all.

When not in the King’s chamber, helplessly watching the maids rushing around, picking up bundles of used sheets only to replace them with new ones, Bin took turns in manning the main gate, fighting the nausea, awaiting the worst news of them all.

Sohye, after assessing the situation, didn’t return to Hillside with her husband but remained at High Castle. She was the one who, every time she passed Bin in the corridors, never forgot to inform him of how the King was doing.

………………………..………

‘You called for me, Your Highness?’

Sohye nodded and stepped aside to let Bin in. She closed the door quietly. ‘I need to speak to you, Commander.’

‘Your Highness,’ Bin offered a quick bow and followed her into the chamber, big and echoey, the wooden floorboards creaking under his weight. ‘What do you wish to speak to me about?’

The Princess didn’t answer, merely smoothed her skirts and sank into one of the chairs near the fire. She motioned for Bin to sit down and he lowered himself into another, feeling ten years older than he was.

‘You may leave us,’ Sohye waved at the maid who was hovering in the background, holding wine that had been brought from the cellars, ready to be served. The woman put the chilled carafe on the table, bowed low and left the room.

‘Wine, Commander? You’re not on duty.’

‘I am not in the right frame of mind, child.’

‘I know. None of us are.’

She poured the wine into two tin goblets anyway and pushed one in front of Bin. ‘I need to speak to you, Commander.’

‘What is it, my child?’

Sohye briefly closed her eyes, as if bracing herself. ‘I know how much you meant to Father.’

‘Thank you, my girl. He is a great King and a dear friend.’

‘No, Commander,’ Sohye took a sip from her wine, set it on a little table next to her and fixed Bin with a direct gaze. ‘To you, he is much, much more than that.’

Bin froze. There was no point denying anything, the look in Sohye’s eyes told him she knew.

‘How… How do you know?’

Sohye averted her gaze and stretched her hands in front of the fire, relishing in the warmth. She didn’t turn back to Bin and when she started talking, her voice sounded as if it was coming from afar.

‘I only noticed after I wed my husband. There are things one only notices when one knows what to look for,’ she said simply. ‘When you are off duty and you look at Father, you smile every time. And he,’ she sighed, ‘he looks like he is lit from within every time his eyes rest upon you, Commander. He seems younger when he is with you, like a boy without a care in the world.’

She turned away from the fire but didn’t meet Bin’s eyes.

‘When I realised what you really meant to Father – who you really were in his life – I was horrified at first. Horrified and disgusted. Because we are taught by the scriptures that God forbids this kind of love, that it is forbidden for a man to lie with another man. But after a while, when I looked at you, Commander, no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t hate you. You were Commander Binnie, the man who taught me how to swim, how to shoot, the man who allowed me to ride my horse like a boy and never scolded me for not behaving like a lady.’

She leaned forward and took his hands in hers.

‘You showed me how to dance and you told me not to be afraid to speak my mind. The world needs strong girls, you said. Strong girls make strong mothers.’

Her face broke into a smile, softening her intense gaze.

‘You took my side when I fell in love, Commander.’

Bin watched her features growing thoughtful.

‘I love Father, I really do,’ she sighed. ‘He always showed me his love. But you, Commander, were more of a father to me than he ever was. When I was younger, I was afraid at first that one day Father would marry again. The court ladies were forever whispering and speculating whom the King smiled at during dinners and balls. But nothing ever happened and I began to wonder myself, questioning why Father always looked so happy by himself. I even asked him once. He simply smiled and said that Mother was his one and only Queen and that he was happy to leave it at that. After that I stopped, content with his answer, happy that I would not have a stepmother. Now I know there was more to it than that. Father didn’t need a new Queen because by his side was a man who meant more to him than any pretty new wife ever would.’

Tears started dripping from Bin’s eyes onto their intertwined hands.

Sohye’s grip grew stronger. ‘My Father is dying, Commander. I have already sent messengers to White City, to let my brothers know. We don’t know whether they will make it in time. There is no point in closing our eyes – Father will not live for much longer. My heart is breaking but I know yours is dying with him. I hereby release you from your duty and I want you by his side – like family.’

Bin’s shoulders started shaking with sobs. ‘I am forever in your debt, Your Highness. Forever.’

Sohye stood up and pulled Bin with him. She gave him a tight hug, squeezed his shuddering frame. ‘Come, Commander. Father needs you by his side.’

……………………………………

The hours blended into a day, then two. Bin lost all track of time – time didn’t matter in the nightmare of Dongmin’s bedchamber, in the constant feeling of terror, as it finally dawned on him that this was indeed it, that this was truly the end.

After a week, after another exhausting day, Sohye pulled him to the side. ‘I think you need a rest, Commander.’

‘No,’ he grinded his teeth to stop himself from crying. ‘I am going to stay until the very end.’

The silence, the lack of her protest, told him that they both knew.

‘You should at least have a rest,’ she patted his arm. ‘Close your eyes for an hour.’

‘I am not leaving him.’

She smiled through tears that started welling up in her eyes. ‘You are very stubborn.’

A cot was brought into the room and Sohye forced Bin to lie down. ‘Rest, Commander. I will wake you up in two hours.’

……………………….…….

He felt the arms shaking him and knew even before he opened his eyes that the moment was there.

Sohye’s eyes, red and swollen, loomed above him. ‘Wake up, Commander. Qiuck.’

The long shadows of the afternoon were gone from the room, replaced by inky darkness instead, punctuated by the light of flickering candles.

He sprung up, the terror constricting his throat. ‘How is he?’

Sohye didn’t answer, merely shook her head.

Bin sat down on the edge of the bed and took Dongmin’s hand. The King didn’t react at all. His laboured breathing was the only sound in the deadly silent room.

Bin kissed Dongmin’s fingertips and lied down next to his scorching body.

‘Beloved,’ he whispered into his ear, lips grazing the blazing skin. ‘I am here.’

Dongmin’s fingertips in Bin’s hand twitched the tiniest amount. Bin lifted himself up on one elbow. The King opened his eyes but his gaze was glassy, not recognising Bin at all.

‘Beloved,’ Bin gulped down his tears. ‘It’s me.’

Across the bed, he could see Sohye sinking to her knees, her hands clasped in silent prayer.

Bin gathered Dongmin in his arms. ‘I’m not going to leave you.’

For a moment, he could swear, the King recognised him. Dongmin’s eyes held his, the wheezing of his breath stuttering a little.

Bin smiled through the tears and squeezed his fingers again. ‘Yes, I am here.’

Sohye let out a sob, her hands coming to her mouth, muffling the sound.

The minutes ticked by.

The King let out his last breath. Bin didn’t move and held him in his arms. His daughter continued praying.

……………………………….

The next morning, amidst the sorrowful wails and despair, Commander Moon quietly disappeared. After noticing him gone, Sohye ordered the High Castle to be searched from top to bottom. When the search proved unsuccessful, the princess took Minhyuk and Sanha and they rode out, into the Crown woods. She didn’t know what prompted her to go looking for him there but the instinct urged to keep pushing forward.

They found him as the sun was already setting behind the snowy peaks of Dark Mountains.

In the dense woods above Riverdale, Commander Moon lay under an old fir tree, wrapped in an old dark blue cloak. He looked as if he had simply fallen asleep, face peaceful and calm. In his hand, he was clutching a white handkerchief.

Sohye swore Minhyuk and Sanha to secrecy about the circumstances of Bin’s death. Upon return to the capital, the story went that the Commander succumbed to the same fever that had claimed the King’s life.

Despite the appalled cries of courtiers and clergy - who protested that even in his death the Commander was aiming higher than his station - Sohye insisted Bin to be buried in the cathedral, in the same nave as the King and Queen. 

Two days after the King’s burial, after Dongmin’s body was laid to rest in the chapel, with the late Queen on his left, Bin was quietly buried next to Dongmin’s sarcophagus, under the tiles to his right.

The simple stone plaque on the floor read ‘The man who served and loved.’

  
  
  



End file.
